


Compromised - Book 2

by ivanolix



Series: The Compromised Trilogy [2]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alien Culture, Alien Planet, Alternate Universe, Betrayal, Canon - TV, Families of Choice, Family, Female Anti-Hero, Female Character In Command, Female Characters, Female Friendship, Female Protagonist, Friendship, Gen, Identity Issues, POV Alternating, Season/Series 02, Symbiotic Relationship, Teamwork, Torture, Undercover, Women Being Awesome, Wordcount: Over 50.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-04
Updated: 2009-07-05
Packaged: 2017-10-09 03:19:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 119,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivanolix/pseuds/ivanolix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Compromised - Book 1. Sam and Jolinar escape the ashrak, but leave the SGC in a lurch and themselves with all the cards stacked against them in a hostile galaxy. This is 95% gen, but brief attention is paid to canon marriages. AU off In the Line of Duty. Sam and team centric.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Consequences

Sam woke again to the sound of rhythmic, sobbing breaths, and she opened her eyes to see Sha’re kneeling by her father. The tel’tak was still unmoving, orbiting the moon in space. But before she could make contact with Jolinar, Sam jerked upright—Sha’re was giving Jacob CPR.

“Help me,” called Sha’re, fear in her eyes.

Sam slid across the floor, heart beating frantically.

“His heart stopped, and I cannot get it beating again,” Sha’re explained, voice trembling.

“How long?” Sam asked.

“A few minutes; I have not stopped,” Sha’re explained, wiping frustratedly at her face as Sam took over.

“No, that’s still good,” Sam murmured.  
_  
*Samantha, the medical kit,* _came Jolinar’s voice.  
_  
~You’re all right?~ _Sam spared a short thought as she kept her father’s heart pumping blood through his body until he could do it again on his own. “Sha’re, I need the supplies!”

Sha’re moved swiftly to the bag, rushing over with it already open.

Jolinar took control for the moment. “Blue stripe, small clear vial, and one of the clean needles.” When Sha’re handed them over, she stopped the CPR for a couple seconds, quickly loaded the needle, and injected it into Jacob’s neck.  
_  
~What are you doing?~_ Sam asked.  
_  
*If there is still enough flow to bring it to his brain, his heart should restart,*_ Jolinar explained, continuing with the chest compressions and then a breath. “Wake up,” she muttered below her breath, a plea disguised as an imperative. A few more compressions, though, and then Jacob jerked to life, taking in a huge gasping breath.

Jolinar put a hand to his wrist just in case. _*He is well for the moment,*_ she said as she retreated to let Sam take over.

Jacob gulped in mouthfuls of air without moving, one after another.

“Dad, you okay?” Sam asked.

He reached up and gripped her upper arm with one hand. “Where are we?”

“On my ship; you kind of tagged along,” said Sam, the one overwhelming worry of her mind tucked away at the sound of his voice. She had never been so sentimental in her life, especially not about her father, but...well, she didn’t want to try to explain it.

“SG-1?” He tried to sit up, and she put her arms around his shoulders to assist. He seemed tense in her arms, not what she was expecting from a man who had just had a heart attack.

“There is no life left on the planet now,” said Sha’re in a dead tone, sitting where she had moved when Jacob began to breath again, at the control console.

“They’re back on Earth, then,” said Sam, without surprise but noticing that the final pronouncement seemed to hit her like a knell. “I’m sorry, you’re stuck here for now.”

Sha’re turned back to the console quickly, letting only the back of her head show.

As Jacob took some deep, slow breaths, Jolinar made a quiet comment. _*If he has a relapse, this is not the place to take care of it.*_

“I’ll be right back,” Sam said aloud, looking Jacob in the eye with concern. “I need to get us on course for home.” Giving his shoulder a short rub almost unconsciously as she rose, she crossed the short space to the console across from Sha’re. It was nearly second thought now to punch in the proper course and get them into hyperspace, despite the fact that she had flown in Goa’uld ships only twice.

There was the usual slight jerk as they entered hyperspace, and Sam saw her father tense momentarily as she returned to his side, sitting down cross-legged. Of course, he had never been up in a ship, probably had never been off planet before today. And then again, she couldn’t know for sure.

“Dad, you got security clearance,” she commented, pathetically, not really knowing what to say.

He nodded, warily, a strange look on his face.

“What?” she asked, confused.

“Is there a point to the pretense?” he asked. “Jolinar, right?”

“No, this is Sam,” she answered, putting out her hand to his arm and glad he didn’t visibly flinch. “I—I don’t know what they told you, but I promise, I can prove to you that it isn’t true.”

“That’s going to take an awful lot of work, kid” Jacob answered, looking her straight in the eye.

Sam sat, her hand still resting on the bend in his elbow, staring into his face. “They really don’t trust me anymore, do they.”

“Sam, I don’t know about them, but I trust you to do what you think is right,” Jacob said, then pressed on. “But with that thing in your head, how can you know for sure that there’s no bias?”

“Dad, I haven’t done anything that could be considered wrong on anyone’s scale,” Sam said. “Isn’t that enough?”

“You didn’t lead the Goa’uld to Abydos?”

“What?” Sam started in surprise. “Of course not, that was an accident. They really thought—they saw me and then could—how could they?”

“You’ve got a Goa’uld in your head,” Jacob said with a weak shrug.  
_  
*Samantha, please end this before I get frustrated even further,*_ Jolinar broke in, tone extremely tense.

“Dad, listen, the first thing you need to know is that Jolinar isn’t a Goa’uld,” said Sam. “I know what it may seem like from your side, but believe me, there’s no doubt in my mind after all we’ve been through together.”

Jacob looked at her closely, eyes piercing in a way she had somehow forgotten. “Really.”

“Really,” Sam answered, meeting his gaze with her sincerest look. Inside, though, she felt strange, like laughter was going to bubble out of her at any second. Crazy laughter. She had her dad here, alive and caring about her, but on the verge of death. She had seen her old friends again, but they had treated her like the enemy. Her heart was cracking, and she was afraid that if she dropped focus just for a second, it would break.

Jacob closed his eyes, hand to his heart and grimace on his face, breaths coming slowly.

“Dad?” Sam asked, putting out her hand.

He shook his head, breathing out. “I’m not doing so well.”  
_  
*His oxygen supplement?_* Jolinar asked.

“You left your oxygen on the planet,” Sam said, suddenly remembering.

Jacob shook his head. “Just for show,” he said in a near whisper.

Sam didn’t say anything, understanding what that remark meant, and yet—  
_  
*I am sorry that my fears were so realized,*_ Jolinar said quietly.

Sam didn’t have the words.

Jolinar, however, did, and she took control. “General Carter,” she said, and Sam watched as her dad jerked and opened his eyes. “I have no way of knowing what you expected to happen at this meeting, but I will not apologize now for demanding that you explain your behavior. Believe me, your daughter conveyed a much more respectable view of your world’s behavior.”  
_  
~Careful, he’s not well,~_ Sam put in.

“You are Jolinar, then,” said Jacob, giving her a sharp eye.

“And as far as you should have been concerned, I was a delegate of a possible ally,” said Jolinar, sitting straighter than Sam had. “Enemy at worst, but still a figure of diplomatic immunity.”

“You were a hostage-taker,” began Jacob, withdrawing his arm from where her hand absently still rested on it. “And we couldn’t know if there had been brainwashing involved; we had to think of those options first.”

“And if your daughter had been telling the truth?” continued Jolinar, not breaking her eye contact.

“Given the evidence, that didn’t seem likely,” Jacob answered honestly, holding the gaze.

Sam felt a pang, and didn’t bother suppressing it.

“Then believe me, you have a much more difficult task ahead of you than I in re-earning trust,” finished Jolinar in a hard tone.  
_  
~Thanks, Jolinar, but I think I can handle it from here,~_ Sam broke in. “Hey,” she said aloud.

“Sam?” Jacob asked, looking confused. “Was she—did she berate me?”

Sam smiled painfully. “I think so, Dad. We’re…good friends now.”

Jacob dipped his head, taking a moment. Then he looked up. “You’re serious.”

She laughed bitterly. “Yes, yes I am.” When he didn’t answer, she continued, a little desperate. “Here, let’s get you some support.” She moved him up to the divider so he could lean back against the wall, and so she could sit next to him.

There was a moment of silence, and Sam noticed stiffness in his body, his face resolutely looking straight ahead.

“Dad, talk to me,” she urged quietly.

“Sam, you need to snap out of this,” he said, turning to her with a worry-ravaged face. “You don’t even realize what you’re doing anymore. Look at yourself!”

“Don’t say that,” she answered. “You can’t understand yet.”

“There is no yet for me,” he answered firmly, harshly. “And Sam, I’m not going without a fight. I just don’t know if you can understand that.”

Sam looked up to his eyes. “I think I do,” she said, and it came out more brokenly than she had planned.

His face was so close that she could see every scar of time and illness, eyes meeting hers and the harshness fading from them as he held her gaze. Then, in a tone that held little emotion: “If it’s any comfort, I don’t think you’re a ruse of Jolinar’s.”

“But what, I’m not me?” she asked, recalling Daniel’s words all too clearly.

“I can’t know that yet.” There was a hesitation in his eyes, and then he glanced away, lowering his head.

The lump in Sam’s throat was too big for her to speak, so she just reached out for his hand to squeeze it. He didn’t jerk away.

“But,” he added, breaking the silence. “You aren’t giving me many options.” He looked back at her. “If Jolinar’s plan was to fool you into getting her into the SGC, she failed miserably. No point in continuing now.”

The words cut into Sam as a confirmation of one of her fears.

“But you’re still here; that means something, I just don’t know what.” Jacob winced and sighed, leaning his head against the wall.

And Sam just looked at him. Her heart was deeply wounded by the betrayal of today, but for some reason she couldn’t include him in it; instead, her grief at what was to come mingled with the comfort she received just from his presence and from his acknowledgment of her existence apart from Jolinar. It was something she hadn’t received enough lately.

In a move she didn’t think about before doing, she leaned her head to rest on his shoulder with a weary sigh. A part of her heart started to heal as she heard him exhale, and it was a welcome surprise when she felt his soft kiss to her hair before he leaned his head on hers so that she rested in the crook of his neck. Whatever he thought, she was still his Sam. And so they sat, silent, hurt, weary, a distance between them and the still form of Sha’re seated at the console.

ooooooo

Daniel’s grief and frustration had built up on the way to the briefing room, running over the irreversible facts that had happened all in a couple minutes. But the only thing his mind would tell him at first was: they’re gone forever. Whoever they really were, you’ll never know for sure now.

Just like after Abydos, he sat in silence at the table and Jack related what had happened. Hammond didn’t burst forth in rage this time, just sat, the stricken look on his face eating into Daniel’s heart. He had lost one of his best friends, just as Daniel had lost both a friend and a wife.

“They ringed up to a ship of some kind,” Jack finished. “And we retreated back to the gate, not sure if they were going to fire or not.”

And at that, Daniel felt his frustration swell into something more like anger. For a second, he didn’t even know why.

“So Jacob’s in the hands of the enemy, and we have no idea where they are,” said Hammond, tone free of all life.

“They weren’t the enemy,” said Daniel, not looking at any of them.

“Doctor Jackson?” Hammond asked.

“Were you even watching?” Daniel asked, this time looking straight at Jack. “Were you paying attention at all?” 

“Daniel,” Jack said in a slight growl.

But Daniel’s emotions had got the best of him, and he didn’t even care this time. “If that had been Goa’ulds we saw, they would have ringed down Jaffa, not vanished with a look of horror. Fear and betrayal—those weren’t Goa’uld emotions, Jack, and you know it.”

“You think that, do you?” pushed Jack, his stance aggressive as he looked towards Daniel.

“Yes, I do,” said Daniel fiercely. “Because I wasn’t completely set on that it was a ruse from the start. I was ready to let the evidence speak for itself.”

“The evidence that Jolinar was up to no good?” Jack countered.

“It was conflicting at best!” Daniel pushed back. “Jack, if nothing else, I saw Sha’re there. Maybe it was Jolinar that pushed her into the rings, but it was Sha’re’s panic I saw. And—and—” His hand was left hanging in the air as he lost his words.

“Gentlemen, that’s enough,” said Hammond.

“Sir, Jackson’s right about one thing,” said Dixon, brow creased. “They acted like they were panicked, not like their grand plan had just not worked.”

“Because they never had one,” Daniel couldn’t resist saying. The grief-turned-anger was burning through him, taking his restraints as it went.

“We couldn’t know that!” said Jack, protesting strongly. “Don’t you hear what you’re saying? We had to operate under an assumption. What if she had stabbed the general instead of taking him with the rings?”

“It’s not about what could have happened, Jack,” said Daniel. “That doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is we’ve lost our last chance.”

“You don’t know that,” answered Jack, but Daniel looked up at him and saw the lack of conviction in his eyes.

“Believe me, Doctor Jackson, no one regrets that more than I do,” said General Hammond quietly.

Jack remained silent, stewing away at some emotion that Daniel couldn’t read.

“Take some rest, gentlemen; we all need it before we do anything else,” finished Hammond with a sigh. He rose with a long sigh.

“Daniel, no one meant for it to go down like this,” said Jack quietly, an attempt at mollification.

“No, you meant to capture them and bring them back as prisoners of war,” answered Daniel, keeping his tone just as low. “And if they clammed up, shocked by the—the betrayal, you would have read it as guilt and not heard another word. That’s what nearly happened this time, the only change is that we know it.”

“You agreed to this, remember?” Jack continued, a hint of frustration in his weary tone. “Don’t act like you knew it all along; we all screwed up.”

“Well at least we recognize that now,” shot back Daniel. And then there was nothing. He sighed, overwhelmed, and muttered as he rose to leave, “Hammond’s right.”

Shoulders hunched as he tried to contain all his emotions, Daniel walked to the elevator, intending to wear out his emotions alone. It was empty, and he was relieved. He didn’t want to see anyone right now.

“Jackson! Jackson!” Dixon’s clipped tones came after him, and Daniel turned to see him hurrying down the hall.

Daniel could have closed the door, but he didn’t, and Dixon made it in the elevator before it closed on its own.

“Jackson, what the hell are you trying to do,” said Dixon in a low tone, arms crossed.

Daniel looked up, surprised.

“Are you going to act like you don’t know what you’re on about?” Dixon continued, standing unnecessarily close to Daniel’s personal space and looking down at him. “That since you’re a civilian, you can blame the military as loud as you want? Beat us up because you never had to make the choice?”

“Well that’s an oversimplification,” snorted Daniel, not backing into the ample space in the elevator as it began to move.

“I’m not kidding, Jackson,” said Dixon. “That was questionable as a professional, but why the hell did you make it personal like that?”

That, Daniel could answer. “Because he doesn’t seem to realize exactly what he did. Before Quetesh attacked Abydos, we were just going to be cautious. It was his—his bitterness and pessimism that got everyone seeing the worst of the situation.”

“And instead of asking the Colonel if he regretted it, you attacked him in front of superiors and inferiors, and forced him to defend himself,” said Dixon shortly. “God, Jackson, how’d that tactic come from a brain like yours?”

Daniel stepped back, swallowing his shock. Had he let things go too far? That far?

“I didn’t come after you just to beat you over the head,” Dixon admitted. “Truth is—I think I get it. Your wife. You’ve lost her and it wasn’t your fault, so it had to be somebody’s ‘cause you can’t accept that it was an accident.”

Daniel felt his frustration flare again, but he bit it down.

“Well don’t do it,” said Dixon. “Just don’t.”

“I can’t—I may never even get to say goodbye,” said Daniel, hand gripping the elevator railing. It had stopped, and the elevator doors had opened and closed again without movement from either of the two men.

“And it isn’t his fault,” said Dixon. “I don’t care what evidence you think you have, it isn’t enough.” He leaned back, sighing, absently scratching the side of his head. “It’s a screwed up business, Jackson.”

Daniel didn’t say anything, didn’t look up him.

Dixon hmmed, pushed the button, and walked out, heading for the staircase.

The elevator was too bright, too empty, and Daniel pushed the button just as the doors were closing. His mind wasn’t letting the anger stay, but nothing was there to take its place and soon he started to feel an empty despair again as he walked. His lab was dark and dusty, the only comfort he could take, and he quietly shut the door and didn’t turn on the light. Walking over to the far shelf, he fumbled around until he found the box of matches he kept, and lit the incense candle. Then he sunk into his chair and leaned his head on the table, burying it in his arms.

This was worse, this was so much worse than when he had first lost Sha’re. Because all he could remember was that they had defeated Ra once—how could Apophis be worse? Well, now he knew. And it wasn’t that Apophis was so much worse, it was that he was just the tip of the iceberg. Daniel had absolutely no idea where Sha’re could be now, and he was only certain about one thing; she thought he didn’t trust her. And if Sam had been honest, this Sam who blocked Sha’re with her own body when it came to a fight, Sha’re would never return to him.

There was a soft rap at the door, and Daniel looked up. He weighed his options, and then decided that even Jack probably couldn’t get a reaction out of him now. “Come in.”

Light flooded through the door, making Daniel blink before he recognized Teal’c.

“Are you well, DanielJackson?”

A single spasm of laughter went through Daniel, giving him an aching pain. “No, Teal’c,” he said, putting up a hand to wipe a random wetness from his eye. Sighing, he continued. “Are you here to point out how idiotic I was?”

“I do not believe you need my help for that,” said Teal’c quietly.

Daniel groaned. “No, you’re right about that.”

“Perhaps tonight you should not return to your home,” Teal’c said, standing as he usually did with hands loosely clasped behind his back.

Daniel’s mind flashed to his home, to the bed that was always half-empty as a reminder of what he was working towards. “Mm,” he acknowledged. Sitting up, he gestured to Teal’c. “You can turn on the light.”

“There is no need,” said Teal’c. “Your heart is troubled, DanielJackson, as is mine. As I cannot leave this base, perhaps you would wish to join me in kel’no’reem.”

Daniel looked up. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m not sure I can calm my mind to meditate just yet.”

“Calm is not needed in the beginning; emptiness will do.” Teal’c had not moved, and his tone had not changed, but Daniel felt urging from him. “Is it not said on your world, let not the sun go down on your anger?”

“I’m not angry anymore,” Daniel murmured, as he thought over what Teal’c said. Then he heard what he just said, and looked up. Teal’c had caught it too; not all anger was hot. “It can’t hurt, right?”

“Indeed,” said Teal’c, a barely visible relaxation coming over his features. “As soon as you are ready, then.” And with a bow, he left Daniel’s room, leaving the door cracked open behind him.

All Daniel’s emotion seemed to have settled into a lump in his stomach, a heavy weight as he stood. He rubbed a hand through his hair, stretching a little, not sure why exactly he was going to join Teal’c. The Jaffa had been an unusual ally and friend, but they hadn’t been the closest. Dixon had had a reason to sympathize with Daniel and approach him, but why would Teal’c offer and why would Daniel accept such a thing as this? But Daniel then shook his head, realizing just how dull his mind had gone. Teal’c was the one who had taken Sha’re from him in the first place, and even if Daniel had forgotten Teal’c had not. If Daniel could be so bitter to Jack for a suggestion alone... Teal’c was asking for a confirmation of the implicit forgiveness Daniel had given him from the beginning. And Daniel had chosen to confirm it.

The lump began rising towards Daniel’s throat as he blew out his candle, breathing in the last of its soothing Abydonian scent before closing the door on his dark office and walking into the bright hall. He had forgotten one very important thing when he lashed out at the briefing; this was his team. Jack, Teal’c, Dixon, even Mckay stuck in the infirmary. He didn’t really deserve them, but he needed to keep them. For their sake and for his.

And besides, meditation could hardly make the situation worse. Daniel would have thought nothing could do that, but he didn’t want to offer the universe a challenge.


	2. Movement

By Sam’s reckoning they were only a few minutes from dropping from hyperspace when Jolinar broke the silence.  
_  
*Samantha, before we get back, may we discuss what happened?*_

Sam eyes snapped open from where she had been resting, having almost forgotten for a second that Jolinar was there and might be feeling something different. _~Yes, I suppose,~_ she sighed, closing her eyes but not moving from where she still sat leaning up against her father.  
_  
*I am worried about Sha’re.*_

Yet another point that Sam had almost forgotten._ ~Surely she must realize that we did it for her own good.~  
_  
Jolinar sighed._ *I do not think so. Whatever happened, there would have been much grief for her, but since we made the final choice for her, I believe her bitterness will be strong towards us.*  
_  
Sam had no rebuttal at hand, and felt the weight of all that had happened press more urgently on her._ ~Jolinar, I really don’t feel like talking about this.~_

_*I know, but what will you say when we report to the Council? To even neutral eyes it looks like we kidnapped yet another person of your world, with no ready way to get him back and make amends.*_

Sam gritted her teeth. _~All right, you’re not wrong; we need to talk about it. They’re not going to be happy, are they?~_

_*Not in the least,*_ said Jolinar. _*Although, your father’s apparent level of understanding may soon rise to be on level with yours when you first spoke to them; perhaps he can soothe their reaction.*_

_~You don’t understand,~_ Sam answered. _~My dad...he’s going to have to go straight to the infirmary, and there’s a chance that he may not make it through the night. That’s how bad this is.~  
_  
Jolinar paused. _*I am sorry, I did not realize.*_

_~I’m just hoping that your healing devices can help with cancer.~  
_  
There was no answer from Jolinar, but Sam couldn’t guess what it meant.  
_  
*You never spoke much of your family before; I did not realize how you felt about them,*_ Jolinar said. _*It was a shock to feel your reaction today.*_

_~I guess that is a big landslide of information,~ _Sam acknowledged._ ~Dad and I used to be close after my Mom died, but when I went into classified work, it became harder and harder to see him. With the Stargate program...well, he didn’t really believe the cover story, so I avoided making him think about it. I think he might have thought that I had started to agree with Mark.~_

_*Your brother?*_ Jolinar guessed from the tone of her thoughts.  
_  
~Yes, but Dad doesn’t talk to him and he doesn’t talk to Dad, and I’m considered on the watch list with him because I do.~_

_*Hmm.*_

_~I guess it means more to Dad than I thought, if he was this adamant about getting to me before, before it was too late,~_ Sam continued, finding some catharsis even in the uncomfortable thoughts._ ~Although I’ve never seen him this out of things, not vying for control. It’s like he had no idea what he was in for.~_

_*Would any one of your team?* _

_~No, I guess not. This isn’t the sort of thing they get briefed for; I’m probably lucky Dad could be focused at all in this situation. I just wish...never mind.~_

_*No secrets, Samantha. If I am to know this man, I need to know where he’s coming from.*_

_~That’s not what I meant,~_ Sam said reluctantly. _~I meant that I wish, foolishly maybe, that the people I thought were becoming my family had been that...really, it is a ‘never mind’ kind of thought.~_

_*It is not,*_ Jolinar answered firmly._ *Your team abandoned you; acknowledge it.*  
_  
Sam felt like she should have been more outraged at that, but the most she could muster was some discomfort. _~I don’t think they thought about it that way.~_

_*That is the point. They trusted you when they had no reason to do otherwise. That is normal. But when it became doubtful, where did that trust go?*  
_  
Sam’s jaw stiffened. _~Daniel wasn’t ready to believe me on Abydos, but he made it seem like he would try if I brought more proof. Except that wasn’t it at all; they made up their minds and didn’t even give us a chance. Damn, Jolinar, how could they betray me like that? How could Daniel? I’m trying to see it from his side, but I just can’t.~ _Sam felt her stomach clench up even as she thought she was calming her emotions down.  
_  
*I’m sorry.* _It was all she had to offer, and Sam felt a wave of sympathy flow from her, trying to fill the void in Sam’s mind before her grief and resentment did. She hadn’t done anything like this before; it made Sam almost feel a little guilty for affecting her like this. But it felt so warm, and Sam couldn’t help but reach for it and hold on tightly. And Jolinar didn’t hold back.

There was a moment of silence, good silence, needed silence.

_~Thanks.~_ Sam didn’t say for what, knowing that if she tried to verbalize the whys it would sound silly and cliche. She hoped Jolinar would take it the same way.

And she did. The silence remained, but it did not return to the terrible emptiness.

Sam felt her thoughts wandering around in circles, and just as they were forming coherency, one came almost unbidden and was vocal before she had time to consider it. _~I don’t know if I could have made it through these months sane without you.~_ The surprise on both sides was immediately evident, and she rushed in to try to fix the sappiness. _~Even when I’ve wanted to rip you from my head and run far away, I knew would have been literally lost and alone, and I don’t know if I could ever bear that. To have someone, anyone...it’s something I needed and I didn’t even know it.~  
_  
Again, words didn’t wrap up all the loose threads.  
_  
*Thank you.*_

Sam had the feeling that she was supposed to infer all the meanings that Jolinar couldn’t express, and this time she didn’t mind the symbiote’s brevity. It worked.

There was another jerk as the ship dropped from hyperspace. Sam and Jacob tensed, and then Sam slipped out from under his arm, the task at hand becoming foremost in her mind again.

“I have to land the ship; we’re going through a gate to the Tok’ra home,” she said, standing up.  
_  
~So, our explanation?~_

_*He was left behind and in need of immediate assistance. If he does not see the coordinates, they will have no right to object.*  
_  
Sam nodded, hands and mind working together to navigate through the burn of atmosphere to gently float to the planet’s surface. Sha’re sat across from her, half turned to face the wall of the ship and looking out the window. Sam couldn’t see her face, but Jolinar read her body posture—anger. From grief, bitterness, frustration, all to the max; but guilt for it wrapped around Sam’s heart and locked into place.

The ship landed, and Sam shut down the engines. “Sha’re, we’re here,” she said quietly, standing up to head back to help her father.

Jacob looked worn out from all the effort of the day, and even though with Jolinar’s help he wasn’t too much of a burden, Sam could feel how little strength he put forth. It was a short distance to the Stargate, and Sam made sure that he wasn’t watching as she dialed. The gate opened, and Sha’re went swiftly first, not looking back to see when Sam was to follow.

Sam took a deep breath as her eyes rested on the ripple where Sha’re had gone. _~Help me forget for now,~_ she said, not fully aware that it was loud enough for Jolinar to hear.

Jacob was the one she could help, and she would; she walked through.

ooooooo

Jack was not going to apologize to Daniel. Not never, just not for this. He was going to walk down to the locker room, take a quick shower to clear his head, and then take his stuff and leave.

But damn... Just damn... It had not been a good day.

Sha’re had been connected to his earliest experience at this job, so it wasn’t like her loss didn’t hurt him; Sam—well, Sam had been his pride and joy. She got under his skin in a good way like no other officer ever had, spinning his world and its definitions on its head and making him frustrated and awed all at the same time. They were good together, a colonel and his second, and there was always that soldier bond. And not just that—Dixon was a good officer too, and they’d already been through some hell together—but Jack achingly missed Sam’s active optimism, her enthusiasm, her dedication. The smiles and the laughs, the capability for hijinks he never would have discovered if not for the wonders of off-world intoxication, the way her insane techno-talk sounded so good to him, heck, the way she could bridge that yawning gap between his mind and Daniel’s when they were without a clue.

But he wasn’t going to think about that. It wasn’t about to enter his mind that he might have made the wrong bed to lie in. He was a heartless bastard, of course; it hadn’t cost him anything to make the choice. Just flip a coin—do I trust her or not? Damn Daniel, damn Daniel and his self-righteous attitude that said if you didn’t fly your emotional flag you must not have one. He wasn’t going to think about that.

The shower felt good, oh so good, and he wasted the hot water with the careless abandon he was supposed to possess. The steam didn’t fill the locker room, but it was warm enough anyway. He glanced in the mirror as he dried off, and saw water running down the small wrinkles waiting in the corners of his eyes and mouth. He was old, god, how old he looked. Even wet, he could see the grey in his temples—no, almost white. It was taking him over, and if Daniel or Sam chose to use their scientist eyes to look closely, they’d find their signatures on those invasive silver patches. He wasn’t born old, he had been made old.

And he didn’t know what to do next. He wasn’t sure now if he had ever known. Maybe he and Sam had just floated along, letting Daniel and Teal’c’s quests and Hammond’s orders lead the way. Sure, it was all about exploring the galaxy, defeating the Goa’uld...that didn’t keep a man going, though. He didn’t have a Sha’re, he didn’t have a Jaffa rebellion, he didn’t have a curiosity or an ego either. He didn’t even have a family at home, a Clara, James, Bobby, or an Abby. He was just a shell, filled with whatever the missions required of him.

Bitterness flooded his mouth, not leaving even as he swallowed with a grimace. What was he doing here, anyway? There were two meanings to that question, and he meant them both but had no answer now. Glaring at the mirror that so baldly revealed his age, he slapped his clothes back on and marched out of the locker room, running his fingers once through his wet hair. With his knees still a terror to him, he found himself taking the elevator, face wearing a scowl as he pushed a floor button a few times.

It didn’t take long to hit him, smack him upside the face as if to say ‘you already figured this out before; now don’t forget it again’. Well, this time his mind might be right. He knew why he was here, why he pushed himself to the limits for an expedition he wasn’t obsessed with. It was the only thing he had after all—apart from a closely protected sense of humor—his team. This team. These people. Even that goddamned Mckay with his ego and strange sense of bravery, the one Jack couldn’t qualify. Jack hurt for his team, he’d die for them, but he wouldn’t let them leave if he could help it. And it didn’t matter what they thought of him, as long as he did what he had to to make sure they had the freedom to think it.

He could tell himself that all day. All day, until he was standing outside Daniel’s door with an absent look on his face. Damn, why had he gone to Daniel’s floor? He wasn’t here to apologize, he wasn’t here to explain, he just wasn’t.

“Teal’c, is that you? I’ll be there in a minute.” Well, there went his plans for avoiding Daniel. And those had been his plans, right?

“Oh.” There was Daniel, blinking behind his fishy glasses, and Jack was no genius but he saw the slight fall in that face. “Jack.”

“Daniel.” Don’t ask why I’m here.

“What are you doing here?”

Hearing’s shot as much as his eyesight. Still, the tone was neutral, true neutral and not full of hidden...emotions and stuff. “Just wanted you to know—” He didn’t know where the words came from, and his mouth sagged as he scrambled for the ones to finish the sentence. And Daniel just looked at him, face blank. “We haven’t given up on them.”

Daniel blinked. He did that too much, it was annoying. And for once, Jack found his silence annoying too. But then he nodded. “I know,” he said, quietly. And nodded again.

Know what? Jack wanted to ask. Daniel pressed his lips together, and walked past Jack. His blank look had disappeared, and all Jack had noticed was that it hadn’t been replaced by bitterness, anger, hate, or frustration. Daniel walked down the hall towards whatever he was going to do.

And Jack realized it a moment later, that he had done exactly what he didn’t want to do. He’d let his voice, his body, his face, betray what his mind would not let him think. He had apologized. And Daniel, calmed down somehow from his resentment, had answered in like kind. He wouldn’t go as far as Jack had, apparently, but Jack thought he caught the hint that he might, someday.

Well, now that he was done with the apology he would never ever have given, he might as well go home. It would be alone tonight, as with all nights, but tomorrow he’d be back with his team. Living with them. Dying for them, maybe, but hopefully not. Damn, he hoped not. It would suck, it really would. But he would do it.

ooooooo

Another day, Sam would have chocked up her lack of care about the Tok’ra Council’s reaction to Jolinar’s influence. This day, she didn’t care about that either. After a short, “They assumed we were Goa’uld, and reacted with that in mind; this man was left behind and needs urgent attention,” from Jolinar, they were swiftly allowed free rein for the moment. No comment, no emotion on the Council’s faces other than that they might have expected the outcome. Larys was alerted by communicator and was ready by the time Jolinar and Shan’ak brought Jacob in. Weak, unmoving, and barely even conscious after all the effort, Jacob was laid out on the bench as Sam explained his illness.

“I am not sure what I can do for such extensive damage with only this,” Larys said, worriedly, but held the healing device firmly in his hand.

Sam nodded, biting her lip. As Larys moved in to work, she couldn’t help but watch. _~You have no sarcophagus...no, wait, Tok’ra don’t use them, do they. Why?~_

_*The destruction of the kalmach is too high a price.*_

The soul, Sam somehow knew. _~Even once?~_

_*Too great a temptation.*  
_  
They were reasonable words, part of Sam’s mind thought, but it had to do war with the rest of her. It was easy to try to hold back personal emotions, but not to succeed in that task. Larys’ face was distorted in his extreme focus, and her father spasmed under the influence. It hurt to watch. Sam trusted the Tok’ra doctor, but she knelt by her father’s side anyway, holding his hand and bowing her head to hope for the best.

She lost track of time and consciousness for an unknown number of moments, and only when Jacob exhaled loudly did her head jerk up. Raising her head, she thought she saw a little improvement in him, but Larys wasn’t standing there anymore. A hand fell on her shoulder, and she looked up and behind.

 “I have never dealt with a case as advanced as this,” Larys said in a low tone, indicating that she should stand. “I have given him a chance for now, though.” As Sam stood, he tipped his head to one side, and Sam followed him a few steps away.

“So he’s going to be all right?” Sam asked.

“Yes and no, Samantha,” Larys said, his face looking aged beyond human years. “I am so sorry. This device cannot repair everything.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, gripping his arm and glancing back with sudden worry.

 “No, he will not suddenly die,” Larys assured, waiting for her to look back at him. “But it is for a few days only; soon his body will be failing again.”

“You can heal him again, though?” Sam asked in confusion.

“It will be worse every time. I cannot change that,” said Larys. “The next time, he will only last a couple days; maybe a day after the next treatment, and then I will only be able to postpone a few hours.”

Sam’s heart fell sharply.

“He is dear to you?” Larys asked, letting his other hand rest on hers.

“My father,” she said, nodding.

Larys gave her a straight look. “Then you must understand, there is only one sure way of saving him.”

Sam knew what that meant, and let her lungs empty out in a short breath. “Become a Tok’ra.”

“Selmak is dying; it might save them both,” Larys said. “If, of course...”

Sam shook her head, withdrawing her arms and hugging her own chest. “I don’t know, I can’t tell.”

Larys looked at her closely, grim-faced. “Your world is so closed to us, then?”

“Yes,” said Sam. “I had forgotten, but now I know. I just hope, now that he’s here...”

“Let me know.” And with a short nod, Larys returned to whatever else he had to do.  
_  
~Jol, this wasn’t supposed to happen,~_ Sam said, even her inner voice on the edge of breaking.  
_  
*What should I say?*_ Jolinar answered._ *He is not dead, and for that we can both be glad.*_

_~But to be a Tok’ra? To choose it? You don’t know my dad; he’s stubborn when it comes to beliefs he holds close. He’s independent. I don’t think he could give that up.~_

_*He doesn’t sound too unlike a near relation of his,*_ Jolinar said dryly, but without even a sense of humor.  
_  
~So what, you don’t see an issue with it?~_ Sam asked._ ~He’s my dad, Jolinar. Even if he did agree, would he be happy?~_

_*If he has been thoroughly brainwashed, perhaps not. But if he is not sure, it will not go that far. Why are you tormenting your mind with this?*_

_~Because I didn’t expect this,~ _Sam answered, a little sharply. _~And it’s not like it’s ideal, he wasn’t supposed to have to make that choice. Can’t you see that?~_

_*I feel your sorrow, but I do not understand it,*_ Jolinar answered, not softening. _*He lived a good life, and he may live another one. Or he may not, but you will have him for a few days to give your farewells. That is more than many others have received. You are tired, Samantha, and not thinking clearly. This is not the time—*  
_  
“Sam?” Even that quiet a voice had all Sam’s attention in less than a second.

“Dad,” she answered, coming to stand by him.

Grimacing, Jacob sat up on the bench, shaking his head. “What happened? Where are we? Why do I—what do I feel?”

“Hopefully better,” Sam said, trying to put on a smile. “We’re on the Tok’ra base now. They have technology here that can slow the cancer down for a while.” She stood still, gauging his reaction.

Jacob rested his hands on his knees as they hung off the edge of the bench, his face not displaying any one emotion. “His voice...”

“Larys is a Tok’ra,” Sam confirmed.

“He healed me...for a while?” There was a flash of bewilderment on Jacob’s face, and then it disappeared into nothingness.

Sam nodded, feelings all twisting around each other in her gut and Jolinar not helping at the moment.

Then Jacob looked up and caught the expression on her face, and suddenly his unreadable face was replaced by one Sam only barely remembered, so straightforward the emotion was. “Come here,” he murmured, and Sam was in his arms in a moment, gripping him tightly. “I’m so sorry, kid, I didn’t want to do this to you,” he said.

“Same here,” she answered, tears leaking out despite all her control.

“I don’t know what is going on here,” he said. And as she shifted in his arms to sit next to him, looking in his eyes for confirmation, they were clear and open. “But, this is you.”

Sam kept her arm around him, trying to soak up all his embrace while she could. Before she could miss it again.

“I don’t know that other thing in your head,” he added, giving her a firm nod. “And I’m not giving it any free chances. But if it’s been this long and I can still recognize some of you...what do I think?”

Despite the strength that had been newly returned to him, Sam felt the weary resignation in his voice. How long had it been growing? Would it be irreversible? Could he choose life, even this life that must be so strange? But wait...  
_  
~Did you hear that?~_

_*I did indeed.*  
_  
“Jolinar says thanks, I think,” Sam said aloud, the hint of a smile coming to her face for a second, only to be driven away. “But Dad, this isn’t...it’s not permanent.”

“I got that,” he answered. “It’s not a new prospect anymore.”

“What if it was—permanent, not a familiar prospect,” Sam answered.  
_  
*Now, Samantha?*_ Sam didn’t answer the question.

Jacob frowned.

“You know, with Jolinar in here, I’ve never had even a cold,” Sam tried to explain, feeling that she was failing pathetically as the second word came out. “To the Tok’ra, cancer’s just another disease...they can do more than their medicine can.”

Jacob tensed for a second, but his arms still held her. “You mean, let a—let it come inside me and cure my cancer?” His words were a little jerky.

“Well, it wouldn’t be just that,” Sam admitted, reluctantly. “The Tok’ra aren’t a cure like the device. Either you choose to be with them or not, they can’t just fix the cancer and leave.”

“So I need to be a Goa’uld to live?” Jacob asked, voice hushed in his astonishment.

Jolinar flinched. “Not Goa’uld,” Sam corrected, closing her eyes for a second.

“That’s it?” Jacob answered. “That’s my only option?”

 “You don’t have to; it’s your choice,” said Sam, heart starting to ache again. “They won’t force you. But Dad, they can’t live without us, and...and you can’t live without them.” _~And I don’t want to live without you.~  
_  
He looked at her, and for the first time today let show how overwhelmed he was, beaten down finally by all the strange turns of events. “I need to sleep,” he muttered, glancing down and putting up a hand to rub his eyes.

Sam nodded, forcing herself to accept the reality that it wasn’t going to be easy any way. “There’s some beds over here. Jolinar’s trying to hint to me about rest too, I think.”

She stood, and he slowly rose after her, joints still slow. Larys had a bed all prepared, though he was no longer in sight, and Jacob sunk gladly into it. Sam was ready to leave without another word, sleep off all her babbling words and emotions once and for all. But he reached out to grab her hand as she turned.

“I don’t want to die,” he said firmly. “Don’t think that.”

“I know,” she answered. “Would you—tomorrow, maybe, could you talk to Selmak, the symbiote who really needs you? You don’t need to decide anything, just talk, get to know each other.”

He nodded slightly, to her relief. “I may be an old general, Sam, but I know when I’m out of my element; I need to catch my bearing.”

She gave him a weak smile. “Selmak’s no spring chicken either; you’ll have that in common at least.”

He gave her an odd look; the only look anyone could give, Sam understood, when their whole world was knocked from under them and this weirdness replaced it. He’d have to learn quickly, but so had she. And she knew that that strength was her heritage.

Leaving the infirmary, not reluctantly, Sam felt all the weariness she had been pushing back and ignoring.  
_  
~How did we get like this, Jolinar? Why didn’t I notice?~_

_*There have been distractions,*_ Jolinar said simply.  
_  
~I hate feeling like this, all lost. Isn’t there a way to just turn it all off for a while?~_

_*You cannot know how many times I have looked for it,*_ Jolinar answered, all her own emotion in the one short sentence.  
_  
~I’m sorry, I haven’t been the best companion today,~_ Sam answered. _~You’re amazing, you know that? You survive.~_

_*So will you,*_ Jolinar said firmly. _*Whatever you feel, don’t add guilt to it. I will be here for you when you find yourself again.*  
_  
Sam thought her thanks silently as they arrived at their chamber. She didn’t remember the exact steps to get into bed, but her last memory was the dark crystal ceiling before sleep finally claimed her.


	3. Needs

Waking was a mixture of good and bad for Sam the next morning. It was not too early and she had slept well, feeling physically whole and strong. But the instant she tried to assess her mental state, she felt only foggy, muddied emotions still. It was as if the cauldron of yesterday had merely congealed overnight, not evaporated like she had planned.  
_  
~That failed,~_ she sighed, not in private because Jolinar wasn’t awake to hear.

Even so, Jolinar began to stir, and Sam wasn’t ready for her. She wasn’t ready for anybody; her father didn’t quite trust the Tok’ra, the Tok’ra didn’t quite trust her people, and she was caught somewhere in between with no neutral ally. Then her symbiote sighed and Sam had a reluctant curiosity. _~Something wrong?~_

_*Only yesterday’s troubles,*_ Jolinar answered, murmuring.  
_  
~You didn’t sound very upset yesterday,~_ Sam said in an almost thoughtless remark.

Jolinar snorted.

It was ambiguous, but Sam took it as a reminder that Jolinar didn’t always express herself openly. Leaving that alone, she sat up in bed and exhaled slowly, wondering how she was going to explain everything to those who would want to know when she didn’t even understand it herself. And she would have to explain, that was a given.  
_  
*I cannot take this anymore.*_

Sam stopped moving, Jolinar’s voice coming to her as if from out of the blue. ~_What?~_

_*I hoped that sleep would clear your mind—*_

_~Join the club,~_ Sam put in, confused nonetheless.  
_  
*—but as it has not, this must stop. Now.*_

_~What on earth are you talking about?~ _Sam asked.  
_  
*I am not going to sit by and silently take another day of your close-minded prejudice and emotional blackmail.*  
_  
Sam decided immediately that she wasn’t going to continue whatever this conversation was like this, and stood up and marched over to the wardrobe._ ~What the hell, Jol?~  
_  
The symbiote took a moment, but Sam had annoyance and confusion battling for priority, and so nothing to say in the silence.  
_  
*That was not the way to start, perhaps.* _Jolinar’s tone was decidedly more even, but Sam felt that it was a forced evenness.  
_  
~Damn right. Mind explaining yourself?~_

_*It is not a question of if I mind or not. It is a matter of your responsibility. I will grant you the trust you have earned, and say that you may not realize what a struggle it was to get through yesterday without calling you out on your behavior. But I will tell you now: it was. It still is.*_

_~So I’m not allowed to have conflicting emotions about...about all that?~ _Sam asked, not so much curious despite her words.  
_  
*Conflicting, yes, overburdening, no. Samantha, you showed no restraint whatsoever; I could barely think with all your emotions. Do you not realize that we share that much at least? Do you not have self control?*  
_  
Sam bit back the first thought that came to mind, and channeled the new energy flowing through her into flipping through her choice of clothes with more force than necessary. _~Well, someone’s snappy.~  
_  
Jolinar groaned._ *Even now you maintain your being in the right; I should not have brought it up.*_

_~Oh no, don’t try to drop it now,~_ Sam pushed, tone dark but insistent. _~You can’t just throw things out and let them hang. Tell me what I should have done, if you’re so certain it was wrong.~_

_*Honestly? Not acted as if you were alone in a world where nothing existed but your pretty little troubles.*  
_  
Sam stood stunned, choice of clothes hanging in her hand. Never ask a question if you don’t want the answer...especially not from Jolinar.  
_  
*Yes, maybe uncalled for...even now your mood is overwhelming. I understand your youth, Samantha, but this is beyond even that consideration. It is as if you have forgotten all we have accomplished together.*_

_~All right, Jol, and I never thought I’d have to say this, but I need you to explain in smaller, more distinct words,~_ Sam said, jaw just a little tight. _~What is it?~_

_*I am not your caretaker,* _Jolinar shot at her. _*That clear enough? Did that go through your stubborn head and its cloud of feelings? I am not here solely to take care of your personal life, and certainly not to be your encourager alone. We’re partners, and I don’t deserve your treating me as if I owe you something.*_

_~You...you don’t?~ _Sam flung back, words failing her._ ~Have you forgotten?~_

_*For this current mission, no, I have not forgotten anything. Just look at yourself. All the angst over what you should or shouldn’t be feeling...*_

_~Oh yes, I’m sure it’s all so simple to you.~_

_*Don’t push me, Saman...yes, yes, it is. Your father is dying, your friends betrayed you, Sha’re blames you for her troubles, your future is unsure, and you’ve been swaying between hurt and relief over yesterday and hating yourself for not choosing either. All that’s clear as crystal when you do not even pause to consider keeping such feelings as close to you as possible.*  
_  
Sam hesitated to take a breath, clasping up her dress with ever-so-slightly trembling fingers_. ~So now you want privacy too?~_ she snarked.  
_  
*No, I do not,*_ Jolinar snapped back. _*Every day is a torment so long as your mind is deafeningly silent, when all I wish is to hear the thoughts that I know you want hidden from me. But if I must not know them, may I at least be given release from the temptation of feeling the overflow of your heart. The longings, the pains, the fears...it is too much, Samantha, and I will go mad with the tease of intimacy.*_

Sam didn’t answer. Jolinar—damn her—had given her focus enough to pull back all her emotions, leaving what she hoped was an empty husk for Jolinar to feel. She wasn’t conflicted now, not while this was happening; hidden behind the wall between them, she knew exactly what she felt. Guilt.

Jolinar couldn’t help but be affected by her...what was that like? Jolinar didn’t have strong emotions often, so even Sam’s relatively limited ones must feel like an invasion of self. Like having Jolinar in your head, only on a much visceral level. If there was no closeness between the two minds, how horrible must that feel?   
_  
~I’m sorry.~_

_*No, you’re guilty; don’t act as if you know nothing of yourself,* _Jolinar answered wearily.  
_  
~Fine, then.~_

There was silence.

Sam gave a pained smile. Of course this would happen in the morning, when Jolinar was her least tactful. But the smile faded, leaving only the pain. Jolinar’s words had been full of bitterness, coming from building frustration over who knows how long. And it hurt Sam to acknowledge, because she felt it too. They had been working so well, but had it been a cover? Was the tactical disaster a catalyst for their personal breakdown?

Sam’s stomach growled, and she finished dressing so she could deal with it. Hunger did things to even the most blissful people.

ooooooo

Daniel was feeling considerably better by the time he dozed off during kel’no’reem, and was grateful to Teal’c for limiting comments on how long he’d managed to last to eyebrow movements. He woke up with strange marks on his skin from where his BDU’s thick seams and buttons had pressed into him as he slept. There was a slight crick in his neck too, but Teal’c adjusted it for him before he had any time to be startled.

After a yawn, a shower, and breakfast, he was feeling much more at peace. Then again, Jack hadn’t come into work yet. He was walking down the halls, however, when he saw Janet coming the other way.

“Dr. Jackson,” she nodded, stopping as they passed. “I was going to look for you.”

“What is it?” he asked, brow creasing.

“Your Dr. McKay,” she said, small mouth in a firm line. Daniel felt a sudden twinge of guilt for forgetting him. “He only knows from hearsay what happened yesterday,” she continued. “And as much as he won’t admit it, he’s getting restless about all of you. I think a visit would be welcomed.”

Daniel nodded. Janet gave him a quick smile, comforting in its intent, and they went their separate ways. Daniel’s, however, had changed. As he expected, McKay was not only up early but had a dozen papers spread out on his hospital bed. There was a shade of worry on his face, though, and Daniel instantly regretted not bothering to check in with him earlier.

“Hey,” he said, neutrally.

“Hey,” McKay answered.

“I suppose you heard about yesterday,” Daniel commented, hands in his pockets in an uncomfortable/comfortable stance.

“Yeah, not a surprise, unfortunately,” said McKay, looking as if there was a nasty taste in his mouth. “It was to you?”

“I’m not sure now,” Daniel admitted. “But it doesn’t matter, does it?”

“No, not really,” McKay agreed tonelessly.

“How’s your hand?” Daniel asked, nodding towards it.

“Painful,” McKay winced. “I can’t think with the painkillers, so I told her to take me off them.”

“Bad plan?” Daniel guessed.

“I don’t know, why don’t you decide? Discovering your genius ideas under medication are nonsense unworthy of a preschooler, or getting random blasts of jarring pain?”

“Sophie’s choice,” said Daniel, nodding in painful sympathy. McKay shrugged, and Daniel wondered if he got the reference. “So, still don’t know if you’re going to stay on the team?”

“Why, do you need me for something?” McKay asked, slightly suspicious.

“No,” Daniel answered, then sighed. “Yes. Maybe. Do you have an answer to the question?”

McKay eyed him. “Assuming you aren’t expecting me to be the buffer between you and O’Neill.”

Daniel shook his head. “Jack and I—we’ll get through it, eventually.”

“Well, eventually’s when I’ll be back, unfortunately,” said McKay, leaning his head back against the pillow.

“Well, until then, we’ll just have to bring our scientific disasters to the infirmary to nearly explode,” said Daniel with faux cheer.

“That’s not a joke, you know,” said McKay. “You’ll need me.”

Just as Daniel was about to think of some kind of answer to that, there was a commotion behind them and Daniel turned.

“Oh no,” murmured McKay.

“Hello, Daniel,” said Clara Dixon, Abby in one arm while the other snatched for Bobby as the boy stretched out an arm to touch the nearest cool-looking thing in the infirmary. Heart-faced, with a solid torso that showed that she’d been in the army for four years in college, she was a strange mixture of power and friendliness. To her children, she was an iron fist; to the rest of the world, an ally who hid her strength under an optimistic smile.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” said Daniel, with a real smile at the home-like picture.

“We came to see Mr. McKay!” piped up Bobby, who stopped trying to pull away from his mother’s grasp on his wrist.

“Dr.,” corrected his mother. Abby twisted in her arms until Clara let her down, where she ran past Daniel to climb up McKay’s bed like a monkey. “Abby!” Clara called.

“Doctor Rodney!” Abby squealed, hugging McKay’s right arm.

Beside him, Daniel heard Clara stifle a laugh, and to be certain McKay’s face was the stuff of amusement.

“Uh, hi?” the uncomfortable scientist offered.

“We missed you,” Abby said.

“Hey baby girl, he’s hurt, so you shouldn’t hug him unless he says it’s okay,” Clara advised. “So Rodney, we were all worried when Dave told us what happened, so the kids and I put together a little get well gift.”

“Really?” McKay asked, looking surprised and a little relieved now that Abby was just sitting on the edge of the bed, swinging her short stubby legs off the edge.

“James is at school, but he made this for you,” Clara said, opening her large purse and handing McKay an envelope.

Daniel noted with interest at how efficiently McKay got it open with only his right hand.

Unfolding the paper, McKay stared at it, a half frown on his face. “He spelled pie wrong?”

Daniel was about to roll his eyes at the lack of tact, but Clara grinned and said. “No, he was trying to be funny...kids and puns, you know.”

“Oh, he knows math?” McKay asked, looking less confused and maybe a little appreciative.

“He tries,” Clara shrugged with a smile.

“Interesting,” McKay said. Daniel, hands still in pockets, tipped his head to one side to look at the paper. It was the work of an eight-year-old—decently drawn pie divided into roughly three-and-a-bit pieces, with “I love pi” surrounding it in red crayon. The smiley face on the tri-colored pie was a nice touch, Daniel thought. McKay seemed to be fighting with the critical side of himself, but he won, or at least called a truce, and didn’t say anything.

“Now it’s our turn!” said Bobby, jumping up and down and pulling on the hem of her shirt. “Come on, mom!”

“Hold on, yo-yo,” said Clara, and she reached into her purse.

“I want to give it!” piped up Abby. “I made them too!”

“You already gave him your present,” objected Bobby, taking a mysterious brown paper bag from his mom and walking over to McKay’s bed.

“But he didn’t even like my hug,” protested Abby with pathos.

McKay looked uncomfortable again. “I didn’t hate it,” he muttered, but loud enough that Abby heard him and didn’t say anything more.

“Mom and Abby and me made these for you,” said Bobby, handing McKay the bag.

McKay sniffed. “Is that—are those peanut butter cookies?”

“Do you like peanut butter?” asked Abby curiously, looking up at him.

“Uh, yes, of course,” said McKay in an obvious tone, opening the bag and eyes lighting up.

“Good, ‘cause there’s lots,” said Bobby, grinning and bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“And mom said we couldn’t eat any of them,” said Abby. She eyed him disconcertingly, and Daniel actually couldn’t tell what McKay would do.

But after a pause—“You could share a cookie I guess...” he muttered.

“Yes!” said Bobby, pumping the air.

Abby looked ready to squeal as McKay reluctantly handed her two halves of a broken cookie, and she wriggled off the bed to give one to her eager brother.

“What do you say?” Clara said, giving them the look.

“Thank you, Doctor Rodney!” said Abby, crumbs at the corner of her mouth all that was left of the cookie even after this short time.

“Thanks,” echoed Bobby.

“Oh no, did he save our lives again?” groaned Dixon, looking in as he passed by.

“Daddy!” squeaked Abby, darting in an unstable toddler run across the infirmary and attempting to tackle Dixon’s knee.

“Hey Dad, we brought cookies,” reported Bobby, holding up the bitten piece in his hand.

“Uh uh uh uh,” corrected Dixon, shaking his head and giving them the eyeball. “Not Daddy. What did I tell you about work?”

Abby was lost for words, but Bobby sighed. “Work is too cool for Daddy.”

“And don’t you forget it,” advised Dixon, a seriousness that was too obviously playful on his face. He tossed a quick glance and nod to Daniel and Clara, where they stood, then returned his attention to his children. “Now, did you have something to say?”

“Yes, sir, Major,” said Bobby, snapping to a grinning salute. “We brought cookies to Dr. McKay, Major sir.”

“Good to hear, airman,” said Dixon, returning the salute with care. “And this monster is?” he added, looking down to where Abby was still mounting an attack on his lower leg.

“A girl, sir,” said Bobby. Abby giggled, looking up at Dixon and waiting for his reaction.

“Ah, deadly stuff then,” said Dixon, bending down and scooping Abby up with one arm as he walked into the infirmary. “I think we’d better put her into the proper hands, don’t you?”

“No, not Mommy,” protested Abby, squeezing her arms around his neck as if they would lock her in place. “I want to live here forever!”

Clara chuckled, prying her daughter from Dixon’s neck. “You can’t live here, you don’t have clearance.”

“I wanna know what Daddy does,” Abby said, pouting.

“Tough luck, munchkin,” said Dixon, flicking the tip of her nose and shrugging.

“Well, we’ll just be going,” said Clara, turning back to Daniel and McKay. “You all keep safe, you hear?”

“I thought they were supposed to use up all the bad luck so I’d be fine?” said Dixon.

Clara glared at him, giving him a swipe with her giant purse-bag. “You knew what I meant...”

Dixon’s family made their way out of the infirmary, Bobby grabbing for a souvenir as he went, only to have Clara get the pudding cup out of his hand and back on the tray without even looking.

Daniel had been watching the proceedings, smiling, but it was almost bittersweet. Technically his regrets were only for an imaginary family like this, but sometimes it felt like there had been more. He squashed those feelings when he could, knowing that Jack counted on it, even as each time felt like part of the slow destruction of Daniel Jackson.

Shaking his head slightly, though, he looked to McKay. He was focused on his work, a cookie hanging from his mouth as he tapped a pen on the edge of his notebook while reading through his papers, possibly having missed most of the interaction. Daniel had to doubt it though; uncomfortable around children and family was not an understatement with McKay, but even at the team’s night out he had appeared to have a strange fascination with them.

And then Daniel noticed that he hadn’t thought about yesterday in a good ten minutes. Nodding to himself, he left McKay in peace to go to his work, knowing for sure this time that the team was good for him.

ooooooo

Sam chewed her breakfast slowly despite her hunger, dreading the knowledge that any moment would bring either Larys or Martouf and Lantash. Probably both. It was an ironic feeling, given the many times she had partially resented Jolinar’s loner personality. But she had her reasons.

Jolinar remained darkly quiet, not giving any input on their breakfast or anything else for that matter, leaving only the fading bitter taste of discord in Sam’s mind. Wasn’t it only yesterday that Jolinar had been her only ally among those who distrusted her? Why did she have to go and ruin that one thing? As unfair as Sam suspected that thought was, it was the most prominent one. And part of her wanted to keep it that way, keep her focus.

She just didn’t want to resent Jolinar.

And when she looked up to see Martouf making his way across the hall, she decided there was only one thing to do. She fell back, leaving control free for Jolinar. But she didn’t take it. For a moment Sam had a feeling like when you forget about the last step at the bottom of a staircase, and find yourself falling suddenly, only to catch yourself with a clumsy jerk. After catching herself by some weird automatic bodily reaction to no active neural commands, Sam put a hand to her chest, heart having leapt a beat.  
_  
~Oh, that was mature,~_ she couldn’t help but comment. And then, she wondered in the lack of an answer that followed, if maybe Jolinar didn’t feel calm enough to take the lead.

“Something wrong?” Martouf asked, taking his seat.

Sam noticed the lack of food in his hands, and knew her dread was confirmed and he was aware of what had happened. “I don’t know, why don’t you ask Jolinar?” She took a sip of drink, muttering afterwards. “Can’t guarantee an answer, but what the heck...”

“Mm, very wrong,” Martouf said, settling himself in his seat for a long stay.

“Don’t ask for an explanation,” Sam implored, looking up at him. “I truly don’t know what to say.”

“Something to do with Jolinar, though,” Martouf guessed, looking more concerned.

“Yes,” Sam confirmed, succinctly. Her guilt coiled coolly in her stomach, even as she ate neatly and deliberately.

Martouf nodded, watching her face closely. His entire expression said, ‘And?’

Sam didn’t want to answer the unspoken, but a part of her insisted that she should, that it was unfair to leave it to Jolinar. Jolinar hadn’t truly started this, not really. “Unfortunately, there are issues with the blending,” she finally said, putting down her utensil with finality. “A lack of communication might describe it.”

Martouf nodded slowly, expectant of more but unsurprised. It caught Sam off guard, and she wondered how much else he noticed.

“And at this point I don’t know what I think about it,” Sam finished. “Jolinar, apparently, has been thinking about it for quite some time, so I wish she would just come and say what it is.” Sam eased back, waiting, feeling for it. And then, that flicker, and Sam let Jolinar come forward with relief.

“Samantha is not wrong on that point,” Jolinar opened grimly. “We began this journey under the assumption that only minimal blending occur, for convenience’s sake when it would end. But with all the trials and obstacles since then and now, it has become a burden more than a convenience. And frustratingly, though thoughts were controllable, emotions were not.”

“So you feel her emotions but cannot see her thoughts?” Martouf asked, puzzled by the very idea.

“Only those thoughts which are loud enough to qualify as inner speech,” agreed Jolinar with a sigh. “While every emotion is now as vivid from her as if she was fully blended; I have tried to keep my own secluded, but with the deluge from her I have not been fully successful. We are teetering on the brink.”

Martouf shifted, resting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands in front of him. He dipped his head for a moment, looking back up straight at Jolinar. “I did not expect to have this conversation,” he said with a twisted smile.

Sam felt a twinge of conviction. And true, this conflict had come seemingly out of nowhere, even as it was so closely connected to all that had occurred.

“Neither did I,” Jolinar answered. “It is—frustrating.”

“Have you talked with her before?” Martouf asked.

“No, I was hoping it would not continue to be an issue,” said Jolinar. But Sam felt that, off Martouf’s answering look, she realized the error in that.

But Sam had to wonder...what would she have said? _~What do you really want?~_ she asked. _~You never really said.~  
_  
Jolinar grimaced, jaw clenching down on nothing. Martouf’s eyes narrowed in confusion and dark curiosity, but he held his tongue.   
_  
~You know, don’t you, you just don’t want to tell me,~_ Sam guessed, not sure exactly what her own words signified, just that they were true.__

_*Samantha, please, you pushed me to this but I do not wish to go further.*_

_~I’m sorry, that isn’t going to cut it anymore. Remember last time?~_

_*It is nothing like that, I assure you.*_ Jolinar’s tone was clipped.  
_  
~Let me just repeat you, then: I can’t take anymore of this. Is there some kind of Tok’ra code about being secretive about everything, even to your own hosts?~_

Her hand gripped the edge of the table before sending an answer back to Sam like the arrow from a bow. _*Damn it! A code of stubbornness among the Tauri must certainly exist.*_

Sam felt the sting but it was almost a pleasure. It was so easy to strike out, use words and sharp emotions to mask everything else. Logically, she didn’t wish to acknowledge it, but with all the confusion she didn’t know where her logic had gone. All that was left was bad instincts.

And yet, it was only in the barest part of a moment, and yet she felt afraid. Of herself, of Jolinar...and she knew in that instant where it all came from. Jolinar’s temper and impulsiveness, mingling unconsciously with Sam’s snark and producing a deadly combination, to be followed by Jolinar’s urgent, open fear of what all this was leading to.

Sam only recognized it just after Jolinar, but to ease them both, as Martouf still sat patiently, Jolinar spoke quietly aloud.

“I have never been so separated from my host as a Tok’ra. Disjointed, unwanted...it was better when at times I was able to hide so well as to be invisible. But the more hiding, the more release of emotion made me feel like an intruder, and worse. I share in her emotions, but must ever worry about my own. Not only that she not be forced to share them, but what might happen if my thoughts sent us both down a path too dark.”

Jolinar looked down at her hands as she spoke, clenching and unclenching her fingers until she looked up at Martouf for her last words. A flash of pain crossed his face, followed by sadness and sympathy.

Sam only felt the darkness. Perhaps Jolinar had forgotten this time, or perhaps it was all too clear to be frustrating. A deep hurt filled her heart.

“And you kept this silent all this time,” Martouf murmured, closing his eyes for an instant. “Lantash—does not trust himself to speak. He is wounded.”

“It was not intended to be this long,” said Jolinar in a voice so low as to almost be a reminder to herself than something to say to them.  
_  
~I didn’t want to hurt you,~_ Sam whispered to her. _~I didn’t...~_

_*I didn’t wish for you to need to know. You wanted privacy; I wanted to give it to you.*_

_~Oh Jolinar, this isn’t privacy. You don’t understand, maybe you can’t after all these years, maybe you don’t want to. Maybe I don’t want you to have to know. I don’t know anymore.~  
_  
Jolinar closed her eyes, lowering her head, but saying nothing. A second passed, and then they both felt a warm touch. It was a conversation that perhaps he should not have had to bear witness to, but they felt the comfort all the same. And Jolinar brought her other hand to rest on Martouf’s, letting him know.  
_  
*Samantha, you honestly asked to know what my wish for you is. I wish that you would be at ease with a full blending. With our mission so uncertain in its length, I feel sick at heart at the prospect of facing it as only half a Tok’ra; a mere mockery, perhaps. And I know that you think it is selfish of me to ask this, but if I am not to keep secrets—and such is not my desire—then this is the truth. I need only your answer in all honesty.*_

Sam felt like she should be stressed; her heart beginning to pound, breaths coming faster, adrenaline rushing to her system, tensing all her muscles for some immediate action if she could just make up her mind. But her body was calm, and only her mind was left. She didn’t, she hadn’t, she couldn’t, could she? Jolinar was already so close...but being that close was not a small step.  
_  
~Jolinar, how can I do this now?~_ she answered. _~My father, Quetesh...what kind of idiot would I be to add something new? I can’t; something has to be resolved, anything, before I can even think straight.~_

_*Just give me your decision, whenever you are ready,* _said Jolinar. She took a deep breath and lifted her head.

“Is Samantha well?” Martouf asked, concerned.

“Neither of us are very well at the moment, my love,” said Jolinar with resignation on her face. “But we have decided to work towards it, whatever it may be.”

Martouf nodded, sitting up and gently withdrawing his hand. “I would imagine that this is no longer the time to address my original purpose in seeking you out?”

“This was not even the time for what we have just discussed,” said Jolinar. “No, Samantha and I have much to do, but the less talking about it for now is for the better.”

And Sam couldn’t disagree with that.

They parted, harmony still intact between the two pairs, leaving only one side struggling.   There was only one need: to do something, anything, before thinking and feeling confused about it all again. And thankfully there was much to do.


	4. Decision

It now struck Sam as wrong that their first stop always seemed to be to the infirmary. It was backwards, twisted, and Sam didn’t want to feel so comfortable there. The Tok’ra shouldn’t even need an infirmary; there should never be anything that drastic that a symbiote couldn’t heal. Its very presence was a reminder that things were wrong in the world.

And today, Sam had to realize it. The first indication was that Sha’re’s room was empty. Larys said quietly that she had wished for time on her own, and had taken Shifu and requested a small chamber of her own. The Council needed a full briefing on M4D-495 and what it meant for the future, but in the meantime Sha’re’s request had been granted. Sam and Jolinar both knew that there was more to it; Sam wondered if she would even be granted a meeting if she asked for it.

There was another person who did not need to be in the infirmary, though. Sam walked to his room and saw him pacing back and forth, his strong forehead marked with deep creases, his gaze brooding as his arms were tightly crossed—to keep them from twitching, Sam thought. He snapped upright as soon as she drew very close.

“Everyone walks quietly here,” Jacob commented, tone crisp and full of tension.

“Sorry; the general idea is stealth,” Sam said, shrugging. “Thinking about things?”

“As if there’s anything else to do?” he answered.

“True,” Sam said with a slight nod. “Mind telling me?”

He paused, watching her, and then gestured awkwardly to a stool and sat back down on the edge of his bed.

“You don’t look comfortable,” Sam began.

“Shouldn’t be a surprise,” Jacob answered, continuing as if he had just been waiting to start this conversation. “That’s the main issue I have here, in fact. You see, your reactions—they’re typical as far as I remember, at least in style. You have all the tics still, and a few extra I don’t recognize.”

Sam adjusted herself from a nervous hands-in-lap stance to gently folding her arms, trying not to grip her upper arms in an even more nervous self hug. Things shouldn’t be making her this self-conscious, but that was one aspect Sam couldn’t help.

“But the problem is, you aren’t behaving like my Sam would in this kind of situation,” he continued, using his hand for a slight emphasis.  
_  
*Just like you do,*_ came an almost unconscious thought from Jolinar, that maybe wasn’t supposed to be heard.

“Do you even see this place?” Jacob pressed, eyes narrowing slightly. “With your own eyes, I mean? The walls hum, but not a machinery hum, a, I don’t know, but I can’t get over it. And what are they made of anyway? Not glass, not metal, not even plastic.”

“They’re natural crystals,” Sam said. “There’s some kind of process that makes them give of light and sound.”

 “They glow too?” Jacob asked, astonished. “I thought they were just conduits for...Sam, this doesn’t weird you out. There are no doors. Every time someone walks by, I know there’s a, a symbiote in their head, but they look normal. When they talk, though, it sounds like they’re coming through really bad speakers. The food is...disgusting, frankly, and it’s not natural. The clothes...the way they walk...you should understand this, but you don’t, I can see it in your face.”

Sam sat, looking at him, and found herself without a rebuttal. “And you haven’t even seen the communal baths...” she murmured.

“The what?” he demanded.

“No, you’re right,” Sam continued. “I didn’t—my first surprises were a little different.” They really did care about the host? Jolinar was married? They sleep nude?

“So what, you just didn’t notice?” Jacob asked. “I really am curious, Sam. You’ve been gone a while, so some of it should be familiar by now, but all of it? I can’t know for sure, though...you’ve been going to planets for over a year since the last time I saw you.”

“And I knew about the gate long before that,” Sam said with a reluctant smile. Two years in the Pentagon, that year after the first Abydos mission...aliens were part of her past by now. “But I guess Jolinar was the one who had to deal with all of this, and it was home to her; I didn’t have a way to step outside the box and see it differently, really.” And she had noticed that, sometimes. Just didn’t realize the extent until now. “It should have been harder for me, would have been, I think.”

“Except for...” Jacob trailed off, hand gesturing towards her head absently. He shut his eyes, shook his head slightly. “This is all too strange.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that,” said Sam, trying to comprehend what he was going through and only being able to grasp a vague memory to help her sympathize. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not really your fault, is it?” Jacob answered, his tone a little calmer as he opened his eyes again. “She took you here against your will, you’ve just learned to live with it.”  
_  
*Hey...*  
_  
“Whoa, wait, what?” Sam broke in, putting up a hand. “You think she stole me away?”

Jacob frowned. “What else were we supposed to believe?”

Sam sighed. “I didn’t even think...Dad, I was the one who got us out of the cell. I told her how to use the computers. I agreed to all of it.” She looked up at him, seeing the incredulity. “Really. Do you think I’d be okay with it any other way?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Jacob admitted. He ran a hand through the fringe of hair on his head. “That clears up a lot, actually; it’s reassuring.”  
_  
~I had no idea things were so messed up on their end...~_

_*It is hard to remember what ignorance felt like; had either of us guessed, we would have been more cautious.*  
_  
“All the reports said you were adamant about your lack of consent to it,” Jacob thought out loud. “But it didn’t take that long to change, did it?” 

Sam exhaled. This she could answer. “Dad, you have no idea what it’s like to have a symbiote, have them in your mind. You can see their motives, their goals. They can’t hide—much. Not who their true self is, anyways.” She had just finished the statement when Jolinar suddenly felt a little more relaxed, and Sam realized what she had said.

Jacob nodded slowly, digesting it.

“I’m taking from your mood, that you need a little more time before you talk to Selmak?” Sam asked, knowing the answer.

“Unless you want me to insult him,” Jacob said. “Not that I want to—I’m just not sure what I might say.”  
_  
~Uh oh. Would Selmak be comfortable even contemplating being a man?~_

_*That is only a concern for your father. Selmak has had both male and female hosts in the past—several symbiotes are without preference, though many have one.*_

“Dad, just so you’re comfortable with the idea before...” Sam said, carefully. “Symbiotes don’t have a sense of gender, really, so they have both as hosts. Selmak is in a female host right now.”  
_  
*Now who’s glossing over details?*_

_~You were right, it is a lot to try to explain at once.~_

“Oh,” said Jacob. “I don’t know what I...it’s not that much more different from anything else, is it?”

Sam gave a dry chuckle. “Probably not.”

Jacob shook himself a little, as if to let his muscles loose. “I need to calm down; this can’t be good for me.”

“Do you want something hot to drink?” Sam asked.

“Coffee?” Jacob asked hopefully.

“No, sorry,” said Sam. “But their—actually I don’t know what it’s called—but it doesn’t take too much to get used to. Kind of tastes like tea.”  
_  
*Do you mean the hareshna?*_

_~Is that it’s name? Well, nice to know, in a trivial kind of way.~  
_  
Jacob shook his head. “No thanks.” There was a pause. “I think I might know what Jolinar meant, that it wouldn’t take long to be proven wrong. Every foundation I thought I had—not much use here.”

“Mm,” Sam said, trying to express her sympathy. The only words she had wouldn’t help him. _~Honestly, I feel like saying that Selmak would help him feel like he has feet on the ground again. Even here, though, I’m afraid he might think that sounded suspiciously like betrayal.~_

_*In this case, you may not be giving him enough credit. But I believe he will find his own way there.*  
_  
“You don’t need to stay around here,” spoke up Jacob after the minute’s silence. He smiled awkwardly. “I can tell this isn’t easy for you either.”

“It’s not just you, Dad, really,” Sam said, trying to sound assuring. She then felt Jolinar silently pressing for control. _~Now? Really?~_

_*He has to know what he’s facing. Trust me.*_

Still unsure, Sam closed her eyes and bowed her head so he wouldn’t have to see the glow at least.

“Good morning, Jacob Carter,” Jolinar said, her voice surprisingly smooth and calm.

He winced, eyes opening wider for a second. “Jolinar,” he answered, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter.

“I cannot help but admire the restraint that you have shown so far,” she began, uncrossing Sam’s legs and sitting neatly upright.  
_  
~Where’d this diplomatic side come from?~_

_*Oh, hush.*_

“And with that admiration, I trust that you will do well on your own here,” Jolinar continued, holding his gaze steadily. “Samantha and I have a mission to attend to.”  
_  
~We do? We need to leave now?~  
_  
“Mission,” Jacob repeated, the wheels in his head clearly turning as he spoke.

“I am afraid that we will have to leave immediately,” Jolinar finished.

“I see,” said Jacob. He stood up slowly, and Jolinar responded likewise, still looking him in the eye. “I suppose you expect me to shake your hand in farewell,” he said in an unreadable tone.

“The Tok’ra are not used to shaking hands,” Jolinar answered with a cool tone and the curl of a slight smile on her mouth.

“Well played, I must admit,” answered Jacob, his face relaxing just a little, opening and showing honesty beneath.

“Then we will bid you farewell, although Samantha will see you again before she leaves, I am sure,” said Jolinar. She tipped her head slightly, hands resting by her sides.

When she looked up, Jacob’s face was cleared of emotion. He tipped his head, just barely, and Sam’s emotions spiked for no solid reason. Then Jolinar turned and left.  
_  
~Okay, I’m not mad yet, but what did you just promise us to?~_

_*We admitted that the situation here was going poorly. We also agreed that the mission would take priority over personal issues. So since we have already risked more than I find comfortable in taking this long a departure from our post on Quetesh’s world, I merely skipped the part with all the talk and made our decision.*_

_~Leave my dad here? He’s only going to last a few more days...~_

_*And we shall return by then. Any emergency, and Larys could contact us. It would be risky, but I would counsel him to do it.*  
_  
Sam thought she should have felt more, but she didn’t. Jolinar had cut to the chase, and it wasn’t an objectionable plan. It was already causing guilt that Sam was getting antsy around her dad, and so she was going to take whatever excuse offered her to get back in the field, back to where she could take on her other role that would be more comfortable for now. And hopefully when she returned, this situation would be smoothed out and make her role as daughter so much simpler. She didn’t dare acknowledge the fact that her father might not choose life in the final decision.

ooooooo

By the time Jack came in for work, Daniel was ready for him. And as it turned out, Jack had done his own kind of preparation. They passed each other in the hall at about 0900.

Jack hadn’t changed into BDUs, but he had a file in his hand.

“Going somewhere?” Daniel asked, deciding to take Jack’s tactic and brush over everything other than the present.

“Hammond talked to me this morning,” said Jack grimly, stopping in place and holding the file like it was about to burst into flames. “He’s charged me to contact Mark Carter and explain that both his father and sister are missing-presumed-dead.”

Daniel stopped, face falling. “Oh.” He swallowed. “It’s coming to that?”

“Apparently, it was hard to explain MIA to General Carter in the first place, without explaining where they went missing,” said Jack, his voice tight as if he had to force out the words in an even tone. “The son’s a civilian, so presumably he won’t ask as many questions. And the possibility is that it won’t be a lie.”

So, Daniel’s tactic hadn’t worked. “You really think that?”

Jack brought his free hand up to rub at the nape of his neck. “It doesn’t matter if she told the truth; it’s a dangerous galaxy out there. And they’re playing a dangerous game.”

Did Jack refer to the Tok’ra, Daniel thought to himself. Or just Sam and Jacob? Was there a difference, now? Even if we believed them, we would have no way of telling them. They’ll be avoiding us for safety’s sake; what’s the chance of a random encounter?

Jack seemed to have thought of that too. “After I’m done with the briefing, Hammond’s suggested we take care of Carter’s house. The lease is coming up, and with no way of knowing if...well, he thinks we should deal with it.”

Daniel nodded, not quite looking at Jack’s face. “I’ll let Teal’c know.” When Jack didn’t say anything, he looked up. “The Dixons stopped by today to see McKay. It looks like he’ll be off the team for a while.”

“Well, we’re not going anywhere for a while,” said Jack with an implicit sigh.

It was becoming clear to Daniel that Dixon had been right about Jack, and Daniel couldn’t remain mad at him, especially not after the de facto apology of yesterday. They were a messed up pair, Daniel decided, but given their personalities it was a miracle they had made it this far. He realized his eyes had drifted during this thought, and looking back up to Jack, the colonel appeared clueless about what was going on in Daniel’s head.

“I’ll get to my work, then,” Jack said, gripping his file a little tighter.

Daniel nodded and half smiled, and they both continued down the hall.

ooooooo  
_  
~You’ve got to be kidding me,~_ Sam said as Jolinar explained their next “official” mission.  
_  
*You know them?*_

_~The Tollan? Yeah...we met. It didn’t go so well overall.~_

_*We did hear about the people they left behind who later rejoined them because of you. They have been our allies for some time, and provided us with several useful technologies.*_

_~Oh, so they do it for you, but wouldn’t share anything with Earth?~_

_*After being around for many thousands of years without destroying ourselves, I think they considered us a, how would you say it? Safe bet?*_

_~You do smug well, Jolinar, I have to admit.~_

_*The only issue will be, breaking away soon but spending enough time to justify a report. There is usually a good amount to discuss, but if we are gone a week they will wish to know why.*_

_~Actually, I might have a way to do that...~_

Jolinar left that remark hanging, and Sam was glad for the vote of confidence. Missions: the very word had Sam’s mind slowly turning off the personal, and Jolinar seemed ready to join her in the practical side of their minds. But before that fully happened, Sam had a personal mission of her own.

Larys was able to give her good news, saying that Jacob seemed to have recovered more than expected. At this rate, he would probably not be in true danger for ten days or more, giving him plenty of time to think about his options. It would not be pleasant, but he would be alive.

“I hope for everyone’s sakes that he chooses that which will save lives,” Larys concluded.

Sam took the bold hint in stride, and couldn’t even say that she didn’t have the same hope. More than anything, though, she wanted her father to be content; and as much as she had come to love Selmak, mostly through Jolinar, she wouldn’t wish for Selmak to have a host that was even slightly unwilling. Selmak wouldn’t either, Jolinar assured her.

Jacob was still a little distant and on edge when Sam gave him her goodbyes, explaining the mission and wishing she could tell him that she wouldn’t be going anywhere if it wasn’t for her duty to the Abydonians. But her actions were only the tip of the iceberg of his overwhelmed state, and so he didn’t seem to think much on them. It was a strained farewell, but there was caring underneath it and that was all that mattered.

Jolinar assumed that the last farewell would go so well.

“You are serious; this is not a test?” Lantash’s face was incredulous and just slightly appalled all at once.

“Both true,” said Jolinar, recognizing her error immediately and preparing to dig in her heels.

“How can I possibly give you a rational response?” he answered, challenging her to explain. “I know that the Council cannot have asked you to leave, so therefore you must have volunteered, but it is completely inexplicable. Jolinar, what has come over you?”

“Of all the many years you have known me—” Jolinar began.

“Of all the years we have known you, you have never given up like this,” Lantash interrupted, breaking her off. Jolinar turned her head away in frustration, clenching her teeth for a second. Lantash put out his hands, gripping her shoulders. “Jolinar, are you truly going to run away again?”

“I am not,” she answered stonily. “I am doing my duty.” 

“Your duty is here, with your unfinished business,” Lantash objected. “And if not for yourself, then certainly for the sake of Samantha. How can you drag her away at this time?”

“You think that—you suspect that she agreed to this mission grudgingly?” Jolinar answered, astonished. “I do not believe it...”

~Let me speak,~ demanded Sam, feeling Jolinar starting to get pissed off. Jolinar swiftly drew back.

“You think you have such an objective view, don’t you?” Sam began, not giving any indication of the control change and relishing how Lantash’s hands on her shoulders slipped a little in his surprise. “And just because Jolinar asks for your advice and trusts it, you think you can offer it freely? Or that you can speak for me? Wrong—on both accounts.” Sam felt her eyes start to glow with the emotion she and Jolinar were containing.

“I did not mean to—” Lantash started to apologize.

“Don’t backtrack now,” Sam protested, putting up her hand. “Just listen, for once.”

Lantash’s mouth opened slightly, and his eyes widened in surprise.

Sam knew it had been an exaggeration, but she felt it was worth it. “All the ‘unfinished business’ you mentioned here? We aren’t at a place where we can properly handle whose personal business is whose, so all of it is smothering us. But you know what? We make a damn good field agent. Even more, we can work together like that. It’s not running away, it’s strategic retreat, and it’s for everyone’s good. Get it?”

Lantash had shut his mouth, and was now eyeing her with a gleam in his eye. “As you wish,” he said, mouth twisting in a half smirk.  
_  
*Excellent, Samantha. Better words than were coming to me.*  
_  
“Good,” said Sam, trying not to respond to his half smile or her own feeling of satisfaction.

“Let Jolinar know that I will not dare to doubt her—or you—again,” said Lantash, a hint of amusement breaking though his seriousness. “Martouf is at this very moment criticizing my lack of logical consideration, though I will say he offered no warning at the time.”

Sam couldn’t help a smile, even after all the frustration.   
_  
*It is good to have a common goal, even if it is the rebuke of a certain slightly arrogant, overprotective symbiote and host,* _said Jolinar, agreeing.

“You will return as soon as you are done, though?” Lantash continued with a furrowed brow.

“Of course,” said Sam, nodding. “Truly, we are not running away for good. I wouldn’t want to—I couldn’t bear that. And, though she may not say it, I think Jolinar thinks the same.”

Lantash dipped his head, smiling fondly. “Then you should leave immediately, so that you need not worry about the timing of your return.”

“But your tradition?” Sam asked.

“It can be foregone,” he answered, giving a slight squeeze to her upper arms. “Go, do what you do best. I trust your ability to work through this on your own.”

Sam smiled her thanks, and returned the control to Jolinar. “My beloved fools,” she said in a tinny whisper, then pulled them into a close embrace.

Emotions were smoothing themselves out, and Jolinar was right; Sam felt a semblance of their old harmony return as their current goals aligned, and she felt all the more natural for it.


	5. Past

With their Jaffa uniform carefully hidden on an empty world, Jolinar and Sam dressed for their current mission. As contact for the entire Tok’ra base to the Tollan, Jolinar pulled out her most stately outfit, and Sam was glad to see that it neatly skirted the line between formal and over the top. The cut was close, hugging Sam’s body in a long-skirted high-necked dress in a dark greyish purple color. The sleeves were also long, with the hint of fluting at their ends. It had Sam feeling completely in control of the situation, and she hoped that emotion would help Jolinar, to whom this was just another dress.

By the time they were packed and ready to depart, having discussed the mission a couple hours before with Garshaw, it was afternoon on the Tok’ra home-world. But when they walked through the glimmering event horizon, the sun meeting them on the other side was bright at high noon. And just as Sam had hoped, the greeting party consisted of one man standing at attention just beyond the gate.  
_  
*You know him?*_

_~I wonder if he will remember that he knows me in this situation.~  
_  
Narim walked up the slight incline with hands lightly clasped in front of him, looking serious and polite in his grey with dark grey trim. As always. His face was cool without being aloof, and Sam remembered how it had been to feel what went on behind his contained exterior. She smiled, and suddenly he seemed to see her face as he approached. His eyes widened, but he held himself.

“Greetings, ambassador of the Tok’ra,” he said evenly. “I am Narim of the Tollan, but I do not think we have met before.”

“Narim,” Sam answered warmly, a little amused at his reaction. “We certainly haven’t met like this.”

“I beg your pardon?” Narim answered, blinking. Sam could see his mind working, wondering if she was who she reminded him of, or if he was about to make a terrible diplomatic mistake by jumping to insane conclusions.

“Greetings, Narim of the Tollan,” Sam said, deciding to go the easy way for him, the protocol. “I am Samantha of the Tok’ra, host to Jolinar of Malkshur.”

“You are Samantha?” Narim confirmed, astonished and taking another step forward.

“Of course,” she answered.

His eyes lit up, and he put out his hand to clasp her proffered one, holding it close for a second. “It has been a while,” he said, dropping his voice. “I apologize; I could not believe my eyes. You are Tok’ra?”

Sam nodded, squeezing his hand back. “Yes, through no plan of my own.” It was too easy to smile here, even with the pressure.

“It is a strange turn of events,” he admitted, looking into her eyes. Sam saw the slight hesitation. “Your symbiote?”

“Jolinar,” Sam answered.

“Of course, so you said earlier,” Narim answered, shaking his head. “I apologize.”

“No, I get it,” Sam answered. “It’s a bit distracting?”

“I did not think to see you again,” he admitted. “And then to see you, and yet not the same you, and here on business that is not for your strange world. Samantha, you have shaken me just as when we last met.”  
_  
*Was he the first to be permitted to call you Samantha?*_ asked Jolinar.  
_  
~I don’t know; I didn’t really notice.~_

“So, are we going to hold the briefing here?” Sam asked, glancing around. Tollana was neatly organized, with buildings of straight lines that were offset just enough to loosen the order, but not enough to make one forget about it.

“No, of course,” Narim said, gesturing with his hand. “Please, come this way.”

There were few other Tollan near the gate, but Sam looked around with some interest as they made their way into the city, noting the order. For all that they were technologically advanced, there wasn’t much in the way of alien-looking architecture or clothing. In fact, it was like a subtler form of some Earth cities.

Narim took them a short distance away, into a wide, brightly lit lobby with comfortable seating. He glanced around, appearing slightly nervous, and Sam took a seat with what she hoped was reassuring calmness. “Do you need any refreshments?” he asked.

“No, we’re fine,” said Sam.

“Then I suppose we should move on to business,” he continued, slightly reluctant.

“Actually, Narim—please sit, there’s something you need to know.” Sam wondered what Jolinar was thinking about this as she waited for Narim to take a seat, his head cocked in curiosity. “It wasn’t an accident that, of all people, I came here.”

“It would not have displeased me had that been the case, but I must admit I am glad to hear otherwise,” said Narim with a covert smile coming through his professional posture.

Sam smiled, a little uncomfortably. “Unfortunately, it wasn’t for personal reasons; not those kind, anyway. I have a request, and I’m not sure you’ll like it.”

Narim frowned. “The Tok’ra and the Tollan have a good relationship. I am sure whatever you have to ask will not cause trouble.”

“I’m not asking on behalf of the Tok’ra,” Sam said, looking at him closely. She sat forward, resting her hands on her knees. Narim’s face was clearly confused, but he waited. “I need to know if you can keep a secret.” 

“From whom?” Narim asked cautiously.

Sam chewed on the inside of her lip for a second, then came out and said it. “Partially from your government, but mostly from the Tok’ra High Council. It’s not anything serious, for them, but it is for me and Jolinar.”

Narim looked down at his hands, exhaling slowly. “I have missed you, Samantha,” he said, looking up again with a small smile. “But truthfully, I have not missed the tendency of your people for secrecy and dishonesty.”

“Then perhaps you would prefer to hear this from me,” said Jolinar, coming forward from her silent watching.

“Jolinar,” acknowledged Narim, sitting up straighter and composing his face again.

“Yes,” Jolinar continued without pause. “And I will tell you, that whatever you think of the people of the Tauri, this plan is not a work of theirs. It is honorable, merely something that the Tok’ra would not be doing at this time for unimportant reasons; believe me, if you consent to keep this secret, you will not doubt its efficacy.”

No longer having to think of the right words, Sam watched Narim closely. He was uncomfortable around Jolinar, that was plain, but she had a solid feeling that he would have been perfectly at ease with any other Tok’ra. Instead, his fondness for Sam—could it still be called love, she wondered—clashed with his ignorance of and natural respect for Jolinar, leaving him confused of his own feelings. Even more, they were pushing something on him that would crack his personal ethics.

“Do you trust that I would not lie to you?” Jolinar asked, pushing him to a quick response.

“I do,” he answered firmly. “And I do not doubt Samantha’s intentions.”

Jolinar nodded, and returned control to Sam. “I promise, Narim,” she said when she could, “it is nothing too heinous.”

As Jolinar had informed Sam as they prepared, the Tok’ra/Tollan alliance was a matter of some classification for the Tollan. While they did not fear the Goa’uld, the Tok’ra had not thought it wise to have a whole culture know of their existence and the type of alliance they had, lest there be some dangerous breach. And the Tollan had no objections; something that did not surprise Sam when she considered their relative personalities. Therefore, while they kept regular contact and a certain amount of trade, the meetings of ambassadors did not have high profile. Neither the Tok’ra Council nor Travell of the Tollan would meet in person, and any requests were made through a middleman before reaching the respective Councils.

Sam had taken only a few minutes to brainstorm a plan once she found out that Narim was known to the Tok’ra as a frequent ambassador. It required a high amount of trust—but she didn’t see any large risks. Jolinar had been given an agenda to discuss with Narim, which he would relay point by point to the Tollan Curia to discuss, and would then relay back to Jolinar for negotiation. Jolinar was not generally at ease with this, but it was an urgent mission.

And as it turned out, she would not have to do anything, particularly. Sam would give the entire agenda to Narim, spend a day or two discussing each point in detail, and then leave covertly with his help. With a prepared shorthand to the Tok’ra’s positions and arguments, Narim could act as if he discussed each change with Jolinar, while in reality just looking at the cheatsheet. Sam didn’t use that last term, but from the look on Narim’s face, she might as well have.

“And I may not know what mission you are on?” Narim asked after a pause where Sam suspected he inwardly sighed.

“Just know that it’s philanthropic, and should not even be too dangerous,” Sam assured. She looked him in the eye and held the look until he looked down to pull something from his pocket.

“Here, take this,” he said, handing her a small form of a subspace communicator. “As often as you can, you may contact me so that I may be sure how long to hold your—ruse. And if your people try to contact you?”  
_  
*They will not,* said Jolinar._

“It would go through my communicator,” Sam said. She smiled wanly. “I’m sorry about this, Narim; I didn’t want to meet again like this.”

He shut his eyes to smile, opening them again after a moment. “I was not sure you would ever wish to meet me again. Even like this, I am glad.”

Sam paused, not sure how to take his words or what to do with them, wondering if now was the time to address any feelings they had for each other. It would, perhaps, if she had good news—but after getting him to agree to breaking many laws, she decided that to inform him that she wasn’t in a place to deal with personal relationships would be cruel.  
_  
*Not to mention tactically unwise,*_ Jolinar added.

“I am not expected to report to the Curia until tomorrow,” Narim said after a pause.

“I hope to leave tomorrow afternoon,” answered Sam, hands twisting slightly in her lap as the conversation lagged.

“I will be here all afternoon,” Narim said, smile only a little tight. “Whenever you are ready to start the briefing?”

“Now is good,” said Sam with relief, pulling her datapad from the small hidden pocket it resided in. She wasn’t sure if she liked that she was glad to leave behind any and all personal matters.

ooooooo

They were intruders, Daniel felt as they went through Sam’s house room by room. This was not only her home, but they had no business here. It was if she had just stepped out for a little vacation, and they were already snooping around like nosey relatives. Maybe that’s what she had once thought of them, too, once upon a time. But instead, they were something much less pleasant.

It was some relief when they opened the door and saw neatly shelved items, not too much, just the right amount for someone whose weeks were so busy and random that they were never sure when the weekend was. A house it was, but it wasn’t a full home—it was plain that it was mean to be, though.

Teal’c and Jack had started in the kitchen and bathroom, quietly loading anything that wasn’t perishable into packing boxes. Hammond had offered to send some more help with them, but Jack had spoken accurately for this part of the team and said that it was something they had to do on their own. Daniel stood in the lobby for a few minutes, waiting for the heavy feeling to leave. He missed Sam. But it wasn’t leaving, and so he took the first door and started in her library.

As admirable a goal though it was, he couldn’t just load the books into boxes. He browsed through the titles, absorbing the names he knew and the names he didn’t. Some science, some science fiction, some beat-up textbooks, all of these he could barely recognize by brief glance alone. But sometimes, his fingers would run across the spine of a book, feeling the rough warmth of it—Sam didn’t seem to keep dustjackets for any book she read frequently—and its familiarity. There were a few British classics—P.G. Wodehouse, Dorothy Sayers—which didn’t surprise him as much as he expected. A dog-eared and worn-cornered copy of The Princess Bride; a complete set of Jane Austen that might as well have still been in shrink wrap, a King James Bible that looked like a family heirloom. Title after title, condition and position on the shelf telling just as much to Daniel as anything, he knew just how close a look he was getting into Sam’s mind.

She didn’t read much, he had to conclude. Not as if she would want to, with a life just as fiction-worthy as any, but what she did read, she loved. And not always for the content; some books were inscribed as gifts, others, like the textbooks, were symbolic of something else. He wondered if she had ever gotten rid of a book as he moved to a shelf that consisted mainly of books for a much younger audience than the Sam he had known. And yet on this shelf, the books did not capture his attention.

Sam didn’t have many pictures on display, and Daniel couldn’t remember if he had ever seen her with a camera or near one, but even the few snapshots here said so much. Far too much, perhaps. He saw no evidence of her life before her mother; the one shot of her with Jacob portrayed a happiness that hinted at masks. Her hair was longer then, a dark blonde that said nothing about her except that she kept it even into her Air Force years. She hardly looked different in the last picture, face the same even when her hair was pulled into a firm knot at the back of her head, framed only by the collar of her dress blues.

It was her expression that was different. Her grin stretched across her face and her arms rested casually around the two other blue-clad young men in the picture, something that Daniel hadn’t really seen. She didn’t have comrades any more, not in this way, not in the bond of soldiers. Commanding officers, yes, and co-workers that she saw occasionally in the mess, but with her team and her scientists there was a different ease. Mental, not physical, was the only way Daniel could qualify it.

Shaking his head, he put the pictures carefully into the box. When he walked out to get a drink to get rid of the dust in his throat, Jack and Teal’c had already started in the living room, Teal’c with the decorations and Jack with the videos and DVDs. Teal’c looked sober, treating every object with respect, but Jack was curiously involved, something that made Daniel feel less guilty about his own distractions. There was both resignation and intrigue on his face, mixed with the dark sadness they all had and didn’t try to hide.

But by the time Daniel was done with the office and library, there was only one room left.  Daniel couldn’t help but feel just slightly amused that Teal’c went first to Sam’s dresser, folding each article of clothing neatly and carefully. There wasn’t much else in the room, so Daniel joined him by dealing with the closet. Jack went to the bedside table, opening the drawers and pulling out the items found—random, as was expected, and Daniel saw Jack pause over each one and ponder it.

As the room started to empty, Daniel had a moment of slight panic. She wasn’t dead. This wasn’t being sent to her next of kin. They were just storing it away, admitting to themselves and to everyone else that she was lost to them. He understood that—understood the implicit “for now” that had its own implication of “indefinitely” and maybe something darker underneath. But he remembered Nem, and the apartment that they had sold in his absence, and his mind shouted to him “too soon, too soon”.

And yet, it didn’t last. It couldn’t. They weren’t mistaken on this; there was no hallucination, no possible way a memory could be implanted. The one thing that was sure about all this was that Sam was not coming back now. And as much as it angered and saddened him to be forced to do this, to pack her away like an old memory, it was absolutely necessary.

“Hey, look at this,” Jack called across the room, tone nondescript.

Daniel and Teal’c looked up. “What is it?” asked Daniel, looking at the thing in Jack’s hand about the size of a credit card.

“It’s like a remote, I think,” Jack said, frowning. He pressed a button, and Daniel jumped as a wild beeping sounded just to his right.

Teal’c, just opposite it, raised a weary eyebrow and picked up the beeping keychain. “Is it perhaps like your homing beacons?”

Jack shrugged. “I guess.” He pressed the other three buttons on the remote, but nothing sounded.

Daniel went back to his own job, with only the tallest shelf in the closet left. A pair of stilletto heels and a giant floppy hat gave him a sad smile, although Teal’c didn’t seem to understand when he showed them.

“Ow!” They both turned to see Jack shaking his hand and trying not to touch his face with it. He gritted his teeth.

“What?” asked Daniel, a little concerned.

“Get me a towel,” Jack said with a twitching eye.

Daniel pulled his handkerchief out, tossing it to Jack as he crossed the room.

“Her perfume bottle had pepperspray in it,” Jack said, his near-growl the most emotion he’d shown all day.

Daniel choked back a pathetic laugh. For Sam to have it, and Jack to have to touch it...he needed to laugh, cry, or both. He tried to avoid all three.

It didn’t take long to finish everything, and load up the truck with all their boxes. Teal’c was especially helpful with the last part, and carried out two boxes at a time until the ones with books slowed him down. It was Jack who stacked the last box in the back of the truck, though, with Sam’s more fragile things (including the perfume bottle). He wiped a slightly sweaty forehead with his hand, not with the pepperspray stained handkerchief, thank you very much. “I think that deserves pizza.”

Teal’c’s eyebrow rose, and Jack had it delivered while they sat in the back of the truck. The door to the house was locked; a cleaning crew would finish the job later, but they were not going to eat in Sam’s vacant house. It was unsettling, and this was supposed to provide closure. It didn’t work, not entirely, but Jack had known that from the beginning, or so Daniel assumed. They ate pizza and stealthily watched Teal’c as he tried the wonders of Hawaiian, and managed not to think of the symbolism of it all.

Returning to the base, there was a quick touching of bases with Dixon and McKay, and then it was late and time to go to their own homes. Daniel sat cross-legged on his double wide bed for a couple hours, a small Abydonian clay pot in his hands, fingers brushing every curve and nick as he stared vacantly into the candle-illuminated dark. Entirely or not, he had almost closed the wound left behind by Sam—was Sha’re close to follow? Could he one day pack up all his memories and store them away? Never mind could, would he ever want to? It was his last worry until the candle burned low and he let his last tired breath extinguish it before falling asleep almost before hitting the pillow.

Tomorrow was a day that held the promise of clarity, of making through the day with a mind on the present alone. For an archaeologist, this closure of the book of the past did not offend him so much as it might have.

ooooooo

For the first time in a long time, Sam talked as fast as she could and was met with neither a wish for it to cease nor a mind that could not understand. Narim listened intently to every word, pausing only for a few words of clarification and then returning to slight nods and brow creases. Then they stopped to eat, and Jolinar spoke to Sam.  
_  
*Who is this, exactly? My trust in your judgment was not ill-placed, obviously, but where did your trust come from?*  
_  
Sam hemmed, hawed, hesitated, and Jolinar frowned and said if it was what she thought it was, she didn’t need to know. She didn’t say she didn’t want to know, which Sam noted, but they both were in agreement that it would be an irrelevant conversation now.

Narim was perfectly work-a-holic, and with Sam refreshed, she sped again through the vast amounts of information that he needed to know. The Tok’ra had a formal relationship with the Tollan, but the amount given and received from both sides seemed to vary with political changes. Garshaw made her policies clear when she had taken over from Selmak as High Councillor a couple decades ago, and stuck to them with firm resolve. The Tollan had gone through many leaders since then, some lenient, some chary, and the resulting technology and information stream had not been steady. The Tok’ra decided that now was the time to push for more technological aid, while Narim said that Chancellor Travell was in no mood to help without a benefit to the Tollan. Sam felt guilty for feeling pleased when he said that the negotiation would easily last days on that point alone, especially when his face expressed how daunting a task he might find it.

“Do the Tollan ever send hosts?” Sam asked him as she paused to take a sip of cool water.

“We have no one in need,” he answered, frowning. “Our medical knowledge keeps us from that necessity.”

It was a satisfactory answer by itself, and also gave Sam a possible explanation as to just why the Tok’ra were not keen on alliances. And as the information continued to flow, Sam noticed just how little the Tok’ra seemed to want to offer. Jolinar might be more blunt about her ways, but the High Council was scarcely less of a hard sell. It made sense from a tactical point, Sam knew, and suspected that the Tollan were well aware also—but it wasn’t the usual way a benevolent society showed itself, and even Narim seemed to have an underlying hint of frustration even as he concentrated on remembering the arguments he would have to report to his own people.

Jolinar seemed to doze for the first few hours, only alerting herself after the light began to fade. But the changing light of the setting sun filtering through the shades on this house reminded Sam of just how long they had been at it. Another hour of fast talk, and she was ready to eat again. It did not revive her for long, as even she found herself growing tired of all the mind-numbing political directions. She did not pity Narim over the many-day sessions of debate, even though he would not have to take direct part. She didn’t pity herself, either, as the datapad’s screen started to blur before her eyes as the sky and house grew darker.

It was night soon after. But before she could give in and say that she was too tired to continue, she found herself waking. She and Narim had been seated side by side on a comfortable couch, she holding the datapad so he could double check the information, but mostly just following along as she conveyed it verbally. So they were still, but she was resting against the back of the sofa, head heavily leaning on his shoulder. Had she really fallen asleep? True to himself, he did not seem to have moved from his upright and seated position.

“Did I drop off?” she asked, sitting up and brushing back a strand of hair loosened by the sleeping position.

“You were worn out, that is all,” said Narim, slightly adjusting his position once she moved. He must have sat stock still while she rested, for her not to wake up. “Jolinar informed me what happened.”

“Oh,” said Sam, surprised by the notion that Jolinar had been just as able to speak while she slept as the other way around. She held back a small yawn. “This doesn’t normally happen, really. I don’t know what came over me.”  
_  
*Politics will do that to anyone,*_ Jolinar spoke up. Sam shook her head and smiled barely. Maybe Lantash had been right; maybe their unfinished business at home followed them abroad, draining emotional strength silently. Or maybe it had just been a long day without much rest.

“Whatever it was, it is clear that we should do no more tonight,” Narim said, with a small smile of his own. He rose from the couch, bowing slightly. “I will come again tomorrow, Samantha, and we may finish.”

“Thank you,” said Sam. For a moment unsure whether to stand or stay sitting, the decision was made for her as Narim quietly turned to leave. Sam bit her lip, watching his stance and not able to see what he might be thinking. Part of her needed to know.  
_  
*This is a most comfortable couch,*_ Jolinar hummed, sounding almost as tired as Sam felt.  
_  
~No need for a real bed then,~_ Sam answered. She yawned one last time before stretching out along the plush cushions and closing her eyes. It was a quick drop back into sleep.

She dreamt that night, the first time that she could remember in a while. It was disjointed, confusing, but grippingly erotic. Flickering light, murmured words in a dark voice, unbearable heat and power flooding her and making her gasp for air even as she reached for more. The morning light woke her, and the memories faded quickly, but she remembered enough to have her frowning. The face was the first to go—she didn’t even know who she had dreamt about, who had left her aching with arousal in the cool morning—but it was no different from dreams she had had before. Except that she didn’t have these dreams, not for many years. Why now, of all times? And it was uncomfortable and intimately so; she was glad to find that the Tollan still recognized the value of showers. Jolinar was awake by then, but Sam didn’t know how much she was aware of and so didn’t even draw near the subject.

They dealt quickly with breakfast, wonderfully calming and soothing after yesterday and yesternight, and found that there was not long to wait for Narim. He didn’t look as rested, but was quick to return to their scheduled discussion. The last pieces of information only took a couple hours to relay.

Narim sighed as they finished and Sam handed him the datapad.

“Are we good, then?” Sam asked, hands resting in her lap.

He glanced down, scanning over the list. “I believe I understand everything,” he said, turning to look her in the eyes.

Sam nodded slowly. “Thank you.”

He put up a hand. “Do not. You know that my help was never in question.” He took a short breath before continuing, “Now, you must be ready to depart before the traffic worsens.”

She smiled briefly. “Of course.”

They sat for a moment, almost facing each other, hands resting on their knees—and Sam couldn’t read his face. It was calm, attentive, and yet there was something in the back of his eyes that she felt like she needed to place. But he was well experienced in keeping thoughts hidden if he wished to, and she didn’t try. A moment more of hesitation, and then they both rose.

As when they had arrived yesterday, Sam noticed very few people around the court by the gate. Narim, walking close to her but without quite touching, pulled out a small device as they reached the foot of the gate platform. “I obtained this last night,” he explained, showing her a small screen that displayed the gate symbols. “Good luck, Samantha.”

“Thank you, and good luck to you too,” Sam answered. She entered the address of the planet where their costume was waiting, and looked back to him as the gate activated. “I’ll contact you soon.”

“I will appreciate it,” he answered with a hint of a smile.

Sam only looked back once as she walked through the wormhole, but Narim stood and made no sign until all she saw was the blue of subspace.


	6. Bluff

_  
*You were not what he was expecting,*_ Jolinar said as she assembled their make believe pouch for journey back to Quetesh’s world. _*I do not know what he thought in detail, but that much I know.*  
_  
Sam didn’t reply; she knew that as well.  
_  
*But you were not surprised, and do you feel guilty for it?*_

_~I don’t want to talk about it.~_

_*Very well. To our mission at hand then.*  
_  
Jolinar once again took control, not only of Sam’s body, but also the role. Sam felt the small changes without fully knowing how to describe them, and it felt good to be back in this. A little excitement and purpose after a wait that had been personally disastrous. Even the armor of the Jaffa was worth that.

The gate opened and they walked through to the familiar grounds of Quetesh’s world. The temple was still unfinished, the activity still high, and nothing seemed to have changed in the six days since they left. All appeared well.

Instead of trying to contact Kasuf, Jolinar made her way with quick strides to the temple itself, glancing around for the positioned Jaffa. As the traffic to and from the temple seemed just as great, and as she recognized the same faces in the same positions, she took her place just inside the front steps. _*We can only hope that we have not been missed.*  
_  
The day wore on as it had before, with still little to note as they held their position. While waiting for the Abydonians to be returned, there was only so much they could do. It worried Sam, though, that they had yet to form a plan that would accomplish their entire goal, or even get them along the path towards it. Not that she expected they would have one, but not to even attempt it rubbed against her calculated side. Things would have to play the course a little longer before they tried to alter it.

As the sun fell from its zenith, Jolinar drew nearer to the inner court of the temple as Sam’s curiosity about it grew. It was too precise for something that was only intended for aesthetic pleasure, too vague for any complicated machine that Sam was familiar with. Aside from Goa’uld crystals perhaps, but that was still a piece of complicated technology inside. Hearing Sam’s active thoughts, Jolinar looked up and around, trying to understand what Sam saw while giving her more opportunity to do so.

“Jaffa, kree!”

Jolinar snapped to attention at the sharp cry only a few feet off. Toc’no, their commanding Jaffa, stood with a fearsome look on his face. Sam didn’t like it, and bit back her words at the occurrence of exactly what they had feared.

“Your absence has been marked for several days,” Toc’no continued. “And what possible explanation is there for that?”

“The business of our lord Quetesh is not all explained to you,” Jolinar said evenly, her chin just below level.

Sam froze, cursing herself for letting Jolinar take lead in this part. _~No, no, damn it, you have to apologize.~  
_  
“So you believe you have higher authority, do you?” Toc’no said, walking dangerously closer to Jolinar.

She held her ground and looked him in the eye._ *Samantha?*_

_~Look down a little, but don’t evade him,~ _Sam hastily provided, wondering how they were going to save this._ ~Be invisible, be unremarkable.~_

“I only do what I am commanded to,” Jolinar said.

“And I don’t believe you,” Toc’no answered. “I think that your strange behavior went by unnoticed until you pushed it too far, but I know what you are now.” He was up in her face, eye to eye, spitting out his last words: “A traitor.”

Jolinar flinched. “I am not,” she answered with a hiss.

“It does not matter, there are more where you come from,” Toc’no continued.  
_  
~Now what?~_

_*I am not—*_

They both paused in shock as Toc’no thrust his hand towards their symbiote pouch, almost doubling over as he struck the prosthetic and all the force traveled through into their gut. Jolinar gritted her teeth.

Toc’no stood for a moment, absorbing what had just happened.  
_  
*He would have killed us, taken the symbiote and our life along with it.*  
_  
“Spy?” Toc’no was paralyzed, eyes wide and mind analyzing, deciding before he acted—but his hand was straying towards the dagger on his belt.

Jolinar couldn’t let it get that far. In the second before he could finish, she flipped her own dagger out and plunged it up through his symbiote pouch and deep into his chest cavity, slicing through everything in her way. Sam felt her hand deep in a dying man’s body, then ripped forth covered in both red and grey-green blood, and her mind froze.

Instant regret followed, as Jolinar’s field of vision widened to see the watching slaves and other Jaffa approaching. A large audience to her act of preemptive self defense, unforgivable without special cause.  
_  
~What have we done?~_ Sam whispered.  
_  
*Murdered our commanding officer for the sake of the mission, and are now left stranded.*_

_~It can’t be an act of passion...~ _Sam trailed off.  
_  
*Correct, it must be calculated,* _Jolinar thought, hastily gathering herself. She stood up tall and let her steely eyes drift along the line of open-mouthed slaves. Two Jaffa had heard the noise, and came forward with staff weapons drawn. “Do not be foolish,” she spat at them, not even drawing her own weapon. “Toc’no was weak, even to the point where he sought to challenge the will of his own god for the sake of his precious pride. I could not in all conscience allow our great god Quetesh to be so misrepresented.”

As Sam sought to block out the sensation of a slight breeze blowing on their damp hand, she had to say to herself,_ ~She’s good.~  
_  
The other Jaffa hesitantly let their weapons rise, unsure of what had just happened but not willing to make a quick judgment and let it be wrong.

Jolinar had her new strategy in seconds. “You,” she said, pointing to a servant carrying a water jug. “Bring that over so that I may wash this worm’s blood from my hand. And you next to him—clear this carcass away and purify the floor.” She plunged her hand into the water jug, letting the red-grey stain cloud away into it. Shaking it dry over the body of Toc’no, twitching no longer, she let her back grow rigid again and walked over to the Jaffa.

“Toc’no was a good leader,” said one of them, but his eyes shifted just slightly.

“All leaders have their prime; his was unfortunately short, but there is no mourning for it,” Jolinar said, voice low, staring him straight in the eyes. “Until our lord sees fit to arrange otherwise, I shall take his place. Unless you have any objections.” The last words came out severe and lingered in the air.

“We all serve our god as best we can,” said the other Jaffa, looking almost convinced by Jolinar’s ruse.

“So we do,” Jolinar answered, letting her aggressive stance lessen to a gravely serious one. “And that is all that matters in life or death.”

“We can be glad he did not have to face humiliation from our god,” the Jaffa muttered to his still hesitant companion.

Toc’no’s supporter glanced once more to Jolinar. “So be it,” he said firmly.

“We will make this a world that our lord can be proud of,” Jolinar continued, a determined, proud smile creeping at the corners of her mouth. It was persuasive enough, and the Jaffa stood willingly to attention. “Bring me all the information that Toc’no was privy to,” she said. “And tell your fellow Jaffa of the news. I will be waiting for your return in my new quarters.” As much as one could sweep away in clunking Jaffa armor, Jolinar swept down the steps in quick, decisive movements, using Sam’s height to all its advantage as she did not even deign to look at the slaves.  
_  
~God, what have we done?~ _The kernel of misgiving that Sam had sensed from Jolinar was beginning to grow and join with Sam’s fear, threatening to overwhelm at any moment. They needed to get out of the spotlight, now.

ooooooo

Daniel’s mouth twitched in a smirk as he stopped to look in the office a few doors down from his. “So, you’re one of us now,” he said, nodding towards the papers scattered across the desk.

Robert Rothman looked back up, smile crinkling his short beard. “I guess,” he answered with a shrug. “I was taking everything home until I figured out my apartment state...”

“But you stay here long enough to make it more worthwhile to keep it here, yeah, I know,” said Daniel with understanding. “Any projects yet?”

“Meyers has me cataloging his notes,” Rothman admitted, hand hovering just above the mess on the table.

“You can assign that?” Daniel pondered.

“I’m the junior archaeologist,” said Rothman. “Which is odd given that I’m older than you.”

Daniel half rolled his eyes. “You should see our head astrophysicist—and our head engineer. We seem to attract the young and crazy.”

“Well, if the world is crazy, why not?” said Rothman, grinning. “I heard Jordan came down for a visit of his own.”

“He joined us offworld, actually,” said Daniel. “Have you been assigned to a team yet?”

“Oh no, no.” Rothman shook his head vigorously, then readjusted his glasses. “I made it very clear to your recruiters that I didn’t want any danger.”

Daniel glanced away for a second and stuffed his hands in his pockets, conflicted on how to tell Rothman that the base was share to its own dangers, often no less than offworld. But in the end, it would probably be better, though possibly crueler, to find out on his own. By the time you got that far, there was no turning back, and you didn’t really want to.

“So I assume you’ll be leaving pretty regularly,” continued Rothman. “Any planets of special interest?”

“Actually, one of our team’s down, and so we’ll be taking some time off,” said Daniel, looking back up. “There’s a pretty good ratio of scientific discovery and since that’s the sort of thing that the government is most interested in, we don’t want to take the chance of missing anything.” He finished with a barely audible sigh.

“I guess history and archaeology don’t turn up very ‘cool’ things, militarily speaking,” said Rothman, using the slang word with unease. “No big weapons, no special drugs.”

“Not yet,” Daniel amended, with a slight smile. “But in this galaxy? It wouldn’t at all surprise me, given what we’ve already found.”

“You mean the aliens?” Rothman asked. “The really advanced ones; yes, Dr. Meyers was very fascinated by telling me all about them. Sound a bit scary, if you ask me.”

“Were they the Goa’uld or the Asgard?” Daniel asked for clarification.

Rothman shrugged. “Have to admit, I haven’t figured all that out yet.”

“Ah, so you haven’t gotten to the interesting stuff yet,” said Daniel in a knowing tone. “Well, as soon as you’re done, I have a whole new side of aliens to show you. Other than Teal’c,” he added as an afterthought.

“Do you have decent coffee?” Rothman asked hopefully.

Daniel nodded, and the invitation was essentially given and accepted. “Well, I have my own cataloging to be done, and no research assistant...I’ll see you later then, Robert.” One hand still comfortably in his pocket, he took out the other one to give a solitary wave before turning to leave.

“Sure,” Rothman called cheerfully after him before sighing and plucking at the seemingly random papers on his desk.

During the few steps to his own office, Daniel made a few decisions. One, only Dixon was allowed to be introduced to Rothman. While his old friend was intelligent, it was in a simple, straightforward way, which would have been quite good had it not been paired with an equally simple personality. Together, he came across a bit dull, tryingly so, to those who didn’t know him. McKay and Jack didn’t take well to anyone even remotely grating, and what was likely to irritate one would irritate the other; Daniel wouldn’t take the chance here. And Teal’c? Well, it was a bit like rolling dice to guess who he’d like, but as Rothman wasn’t ready to meet him yet, that settled that.

He entered his office satisfied without even remembering why, as he became quickly engrossed in the backlog of information on and surrounding his desk. Ever since joining this place, he’d never had a lack of work to fill up time, and it didn’t look like that would ever change.

ooooooo

Sam wasn’t shaking, didn’t find her muscles trembling, and something kept telling her that she was detached from her body. Jolinar had a quick form of determination that got her past all the stares, past all the crowds, and she now went up the stairs to the second floor of Toc’no’s house where she shut the door and almost collapsed onto the chair. Maybe they weren’t so disconnected after all.  
_  
*I cannot believe what I have done.*_

_~Neither can I.~_

_*If there is but one strong dissenter, then we will be in terrible danger of death, or possibly worse.*  
_  
Sam flinched. _~And yet you gutted that man.~_

_*Had he lived even a second longer, he would have spoken the words that would have sealed our fate then and there.*_

_~You couldn’t have zatted him?~_

_*It would not have been proper. His death had to be one of swift punishment.*_

_~Jolinar, I can still feel his blood on my hands!~_ Sam felt her mind reeling, and Jolinar wasn’t unaffected. She lowered her head, resting it in her hands.  
_  
*You have never killed like that.*_

_~No,~_ Sam whispered back. _~I did not want to. I did not think that—~_

_*It is not always like that,*_ Jolinar answered the half spoken question. _*But sometimes, it is necessary.*_

_~That’s almost worse, that I can’t see another way for it to have gone down.~_

_*Then let us put aside that point; I am sorry to have caused you trauma, but there is a much larger situation that should be causing you fear. And that is that we have vaulted ourselves to authority on this world.*  
_  
Sam felt Jolinar give up control, and found that as soon as she could take a few deep breaths, the world started to clear up. _~You never were good at playing submissive, were you.~_

_*Which was why I needed your advice and input.*_

_~Perfect. Another communication error, and this time look what it causes?~_

_*And you don’t even know half of it yet. This is a high profile world; Jaffa and slaves pass through many times each day, and Quetesh is spending an exorbitant amount of her limited resources on this temple. Toc’no, while not her first prime, was among her top commanders, and we have dared to take his place. Not only are we now responsible for the entire population and function of this world, but we will have to face Quetesh some day.*_

_~Damn.~ _There was no bite, no emotion to it. _~I should have jumped in sooner, taken control.~_

_*It might not have worked, if you hadn’t had an alibi,* _Jolinar countered.

Sam appreciated the attempt, a little out of habit for Jolinar, but still thought it was a valid point. _~So what do we do now?~_

_*This is no longer a low profile mission. It was doubtful before, given the level of importance to Quetesh that the Abydonians apparently have, but all doubt is firm now. We cannot do this without it being well known to Tok’ra operatives on other worlds.*_

_~You mean they might know it was us?~_

_*It is not a certainty. But yes, it would appear very suspicious if they cared to look. Regardless, it will be a huge blow to Quetesh both practically and for morale. The only thing we can do at this point is limit the damage; keep the world running as well as before, perhaps more efficiently.*_

_~Aiding a Goa’uld...that hurts,~_ said Sam.

Jolinar hmmed, but added, _*It may not be all bad. Today was the worst, I believe.*  
_  
Sam was inclined to trust Jolinar’s intuition, especially when it came to this, even though today had been a shocker. She wasn’t going to forget Toc’no and the way she sliced the life out of him; but maybe she could make that stain on her record worth it. The Abydonians were even more in their reach now, even if so many other things were not. And at this point, Sha’re’s wrenching disappointment had further added to the burden on Sam to make this one thing right. She could not stand being responsible for destroying Sha’re’s life twice.

Outside her mind, there was a sound at the door. Sam stood up to attention, remembering that she was fearless and proud and not giving Jolinar back the control this time. “Enter!” she called out with a hint of snap to it.

“You will find all the relevant documents in this room,” said the Jaffa upon entering with a bow. “The people are now aware of your new position, and any further information and problems will be brought forward to you first.”

“Good,” said Sam shortly, with the briefest of nods. “I am proud of your expediency.”

“I give my all for my lord, and whoever is representative of that divine power deserves no less,” answered the Jaffa.

Sam looked him in the eye, and she didn’t even need Jolinar’s intuition to see the honesty there. “That is all,” she finished.

The Jaffa bowed and left.  
_  
*I am impressed, Samantha.*_

_~Not that it means much.~_

_*It will mean much when you are able to influence something, considering how much will be impossible for us. We cannot free Kasuf, or the Abydonians, with this power. In fact, we must do exactly the opposite.*_

_~I understand that.~_

_*At least we may return to the Tok’ra without fear once this is settled; privileges of leadership._* Sam heard no lightness in her tone, only heavy acknowledgment of the one easy thing this had proved.  
_  
~You’re trying to hide what a huge mistake this was, aren’t you?~_

_*Not willingly.*  
_  
Sam sighed, closing her eyes for a few seconds. The shock of Toc’no’s death was already fading, Jolinar’s resignation seeping over to smother Sam’s wracked nerves. And Sam welcomed it, almost in spite of herself; Jolinar had killed to save them both, save the Abydonians, maybe even the Tok’ra. Aside from the method, Sam couldn’t say she wouldn’t have done the same—just maybe not in time. That wasn’t the cause for Sam’s frustration.  
_  
~So, let’s get a plan, then. What the hell, exactly, have we gotten into, and how are we going to deal with it?~  
_  
Sam could almost hear Jolinar’s relieved sigh, and maybe even a grain of dry humor. _*It is a deep, fiery hell indeed, but not insurmountable. We’re not doomed yet.*_

_~Always good to hear,~_ Sam answered.

She didn’t even think to contact Narim as Jolinar pored over the papers, translating the Goa’uld for Sam so that they could quickly understand all that they had been bluffing to before. The further they went, the less commentary, leading Sam to the obvious answer that Jolinar had had no real idea of what Toc’no had done for this world. They had not taken on an easy task.

Had Sam chosen to make her unconscious rise to active thoughts, she would have known for sure that she and Jolinar were evading, even if it was the right time to do so. But her unconscious had worked before to keep her quietly unworried about everything all at once, and that was not changed. It was just getting harder to focus on one problem to the exclusion of others—ironic, given Jolinar’s temperament and its influence on her. Sam’s unconscious made it happen, though.

That night, Sam and Jolinar fell into sleep in the bed of a man they had killed almost with their bare hands. And did not dream about it. They sought to keep rule of an entire world; there was no time for emotions, no time for regrets, no time for dreams.


	7. Details

The next day was the first step into hell. A slave brought prepared breakfast to Sam and Jolinar early in the day, and though they were already alert, it was all they could do to ignore him. They had no sympathy for slaves, not now, they couldn’t. After eating the bare minimum, Jolinar determined that they needed to solidify their control.

And it was properly intuited, Sam realized as soon as they left the commander’s complex. Murmurs, whispers, followed them as they scanned their new domain. No dirty looks—yet—and no outright demonstrations. But Sam knew as well as Jolinar just how proud the Jaffa were, and despite their allegations Toc’no had not been a bad leader. He had enough flaws to give their words worth, but more than anything Sam and Jolinar needed to prove that they were better.

And that would take time. To start, they would prove themselves Toc’no’s equal. Hard, a little cold, dismissive of inferiors until they proved useful. The only thing that was not in Jolinar’s favor for this role was her naturally impressive voice having to be stifled. Sam had been surprised that it did not bother her when they first pretended to be Jaffa, but Jolinar “used” her voice when they thought to each other, and so hearing it come from her own mouth barely affected Sam. It may have been because Jolinar’s tone and words were always different; the distinction was handy among the Tok’ra for those who did not know them well, but anyone who did could tell the difference between the two, voice alteration or not.

After their first round, however, Sam hinted to Jolinar that being too proud would do them no good. She had succeeded for some through humility, through earnestness, as well as initiative. Dropping a few appreciative comments would not ruin the image, Sam assured her. And unlike yesterday, Jolinar amended her role just a little. Sam was proud of them both when the barely-heard comments diminished in a single day. Not gone, not yet, but they were already making progress.  
_  
*It is easier to infiltrate a warrior society like this,*_ Jolinar commented late in the day. _*The Goa’uld are proud but suspicious and selfish of their own power, and only cunning will take it from them. Jaffa respect power, and are willing to serve under a leader they trust.*_

_~They are a much better people than those who enslave them,~ _Sam agreed.

Even so, it was not a firm victory. And it wouldn’t be, Jolinar told her, until an even higher authority approved. Hierarchy would win out in the end. In the meantime, the only thing they could do was build up a reputation that satisfied their claims.

By candlelight, Sam absorbed the information on the maps in Toc’no’s quarters. She couldn’t understand the words, but maps rarely needed words. Her finger traced over the lines of roads and rivers and ridges, from the vast farming fields far beyond the settlement up to the temple and the Stargate on the high ground. The temple was being built in the foothills of a mountain range, with a lake to the north (or the top—the map had no compass) that fed the plains below with an exorbitant wetness. Sam didn’t know much geography, but in a place as tropical as this part of the world, surely those fields must flood on a regular basis.

She tried to remember the offerings of the temple, and though there were foreign and bright-colored foods, there had also been a high amount of breads and grains, legumes, and spices. They must have been imported; Sam guessed that Quetesh was an Egyptian god like most of the other Goa’uld, and had acquired a taste for their cuisine. Why she chose this planet, then, was odd, given its Central American landscape. But that wasn’t Sam’s goal; she wondered, for the sake of this role, if there was anything inefficient to fix.

Water supply was not it; being in the foothills, there were aqueducts from cold mountain springs that could be warmed before entering the temple. Several wells graced the villages as well. Heat was also not an issue, given the water in the air and the sharp angle of the sun. Even their elevation did not alleviate it all. But with both heat and water, there came mud and exhaustion. Perhaps in the temple it was shady and cool, but even in one day there were two reports of a malfunction of some operation due to heat stroke of the slaves.  
_  
~Help me, Jolinar; I’m not experienced in organizing a workforce, but there’s got to be something wrong here.~_

_*From the Goa’uld point of view, possibly not,* _Jolinar commented. _*But given Quetesh’s limited resources and sharp mind, she might approve of a more lenient and effective division of labor, even if her Jaffa are less willing.*_

_~Okay, maybe, but we can’t ruin the standing we have here in hopes that Quetesh will weigh the idea and find it worth it.~_

_*True, but we can start with small steps.*_

_~Such as forcing the “weak” slaves to be put in confinement until they are worthy to serve?~_

_*Untraditional, but understandable. Yes.*_

_~And what about paving the roads and strengthening the levies in the fields, Roman style.~  
_  
Jolinar paused to look over the pictures that Sam dredged from her memories of history classes to display in her mind._ *I have seen similar designs before, strangely enough. But regardless, it is good enough.*_

_~You know what else I’m thinking? Night shifts. Spread the duties so that there’s always work going on. Less people in one spot, less traffic, less overseeing necessary, and houses can be shared.~_

_*That’s going too far; a good plan, but not yet.*_

It was dark, the moon barely shining through the cloud cover, and Sam and Jolinar were weary. There had been anxiety and worry during the day, as well as a lot of energy spent on focusing on and absorbing everything they needed to know. They had to appear as if they knew exactly how this place ran, and exactly how it should run. Sam might have picked up on a few ideas, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. After all, they were just good guesses. Sam had always led based on orders; Jolinar had given those orders to others. Neither had management experience, and it was a terrifying prospect.

Still, with two minds on the task, nothing could be truly called impossible. That was one thing the Jaffa didn’t have, and both Sam and Jolinar were determined to make it work for them in this circumstance.

ooooooo

“Ow! Hey, stop that!”

Daniel could recognize those sharp tones a mile off, and he was surprised that he didn’t hear an answering rebuke from Janet. As he looked in the infirmary, however, he saw that Janet was nowhere in sight.

McKay’s bed was tilted upright in a seated position, his hand unbandaged for the first time since the injury as far as Daniel knew. A doctor that Daniel did not recognize was trying very hard not to frown as she supported his hand and held some instrument in hers. Of course, Daniel was curious as to why.

“Be careful—that can’t be fixed if its broken, you know!” McKay protested as the doctor did something.

“Dear god, Doctor McKay, if you can’t understand that I’m an expert then I have no faith in the intelligence of the base’s population,” the doctor said with rising frustration still contained in her tone. Daniel came close enough to read the tag on her coat—Dr. Brymon. She appeared in her mid-to-late thirties, round faced and of average height, a dark brunette with distracting wisps of hair curling from around her regulation topknot.

“Jackson, what do you want?” McKay asked, noticing Daniel as he stood on McKay’s right side.

“Something going on?” Daniel asked, a hint of innocence in his tone.

“Dr. Daniel Jackson?” asked Dr. Brymon. Daniel nodded and she offered a hand. “Lois Brymon, physiotherapist.”

Daniel shook it warmly. “I didn’t realize we had that need; pleasure to meet you, though.”

“Oh, I deal with physical training as well, mostly for non-military recruits,” Brymon answered, effectively ignoring McKay in a way that had Daniel impressed, and the scientist ticked. “But unfortunately, there is a call for my specialty as well.”

“If you can call poking an injury a specialty, beyond the usual horrors of what Frasier calls modern medicine,” McKay grumbled, dragging the other two’s attention back somewhat reluctantly.

Daniel looked inquiringly to Brymon, and she sighed. “It is essential to keep track of the nature of the damage, which in this case involves serious neural disrupture.” She indicated the wound, and Daniel felt obliged to look.

Even six days after the bite, it looked sickly and pale, at least where the skin was undamaged. Thicker spines and some spines clustered together had torn parts of McKay’s hand, adding small gashes to the overall puncture wounds that covered it. Swollen, in some areas slightly inflamed, and in others looking clammy and marked by dead tissue, it was a ghastly sight. Daniel didn’t enjoy the view, and couldn’t begrudge McKay for any more-than-usual snippiness, especially if it hurt as much as it seemed to.

“Is that good?” he asked after a slight swallow.

“Oh yes,” Brymon answered, eyebrows rising a little. “Judging by his condition now, it is likely that the serious damage is minimal. It may take a few weeks to show any progress at all, but I have no doubt that it will happen.”

“I’m right here,” McKay protested.

“Yes,” said Brymon, swinging her head towards him. “And when you have a civilized and/or relevant comment, I will oblige your ego with a response.” She closed her eyes and exhaled. “Well, that was unprofessional of me.”

McKay gave her the eye.

“Believe me, any little pain now will be worth the recovery,” Brymon continued, speaking directly to McKay.

“I don’t believe it, but as nothing I say will get you to do otherwise, do what you came to do,” McKay conceded. Had both his arms been free, Daniel had no doubt he would have crossed them. As it was, he settled for a not-going-willingly look.

“Apart from this, how are you doing?” Daniel asked McKay, trying to distract him as Dr. Brymon lightly touched various areas of his hand to check for sensation.

His attitude was gone, and a slight nervousness remained. “There is nothing to do here,” he said, flinching a little at each touch. “And not only can I not go to my lab, I am not allowed near any chemicals that aren’t medicinal, nor any electrical currents or energy fields. Which means that the theoretical part of my title? Gets a lot more use than usual.”

Daniel nodded, feeling automatic sympathy for the weary boredom in the mans’ voice. McKay was tough to live with (not that Daniel thought he himself was, but that was no matter), but he and Daniel shared a same basic instinct that covered a multitude of sins. “Well, the team’s off missions along with you,” he said.

“So no gloating?” McKay answered.

 “No,” Daniel said with a slight smile.

McKay nodded, trying to hide a mixture of relief and pleasure that Daniel caught anyway. He wasn’t that great of an actor, and his attachment to the team he hadn’t wanted to join was becoming apparent.

“Well, I have a lot of backlog to go through,” Daniel said with a sigh, “so I’m just as limited. I think Jack and Dixon will be accompanying some return trips to various planets, but Teal’c and I are here if you need anything, you know.”

“I really don’t think Teal’c’s role is called for here,” said McKay with a significant look.

Daniel nodded with a bit of a smile. “Possibly not. Although Jaffa entertainment might be interesting; not something he discusses, but who knows?”

“Well, all done now,” said Brymon, making the last mark on her chart. “Dr. McKay, you will not lose basic function of your hand.”

“Really?” McKay looked to her, nervousness gone.

“No, I lied to you,” she intoned. They shared a slight glare, and she continued. “I will have a physical therapy schedule ready, and we can work the first steps later this week. I’ll talk to Frasier about making sure you’re taking good care of it while you’re here.”

With a nod of farewell, Daniel finished his curious visit and went on to his own business.

ooooooo

One advantage to dealing with slaves instead of free populations was that they didn’t have many questions for their authorities. Not “are you qualified?”, or “did you win fair and square?”. Just, “do you have the right?” And that was much easier to answer. Sam and Jolinar made it through their first full day with a few bumps and hurdles, but the dawn of the second had no such issues.

It did, however, have its own. Most of the Jaffa accepted, even if still perhaps slightly grudgingly, that Sam and Jolinar (going by the name of Coron) were in command, and brought all of their complaints and problems to them accordingly. Jolinar found herself floundering in the mass of concerns and thoughts that distracted from her focus. She was on the edge of losing her control. Sam jumped in, more at ease with the chaos, but her lack of knowledge had her on edge in case she might say something wrong. And they couldn’t afford a mistake; Sam and Jolinar’s lines of communication stayed busy through the whole day, sharing the information the only way they could, even if it meant that Jolinar had no time to regain a cool-headed view of the situation.

They did get things done, though. At the first report of exhaustion, Sam ordered that the weak slaves be imprisoned for their impotence, and that the stronger slaves be forced to do their work. It was just enough to keep the sting of guilt tolerable; better heaping burden on those who could handle it than work those who couldn’t to death. After all, they were there to fix this, eventually. They just had to be patient.

Those were just the slaves, as well. The Jaffa, Sam and Jolinar among them, festered in their heavy metal armor as the sun rose and scorched the earth. Flies buzzed, the only clouds in the clear air, and the clay beneath their feet only reflected the heat back like an oven wall. It was torment, and the Jaffa showed it. But Jolinar’s frustration backed hers, and this time they didn’t let it get the best of them. Sam funneled it into forcing every muscle to obey and maintain the outward appearance of control. It was the one thing that would keep the Jaffa in line, a reminder of who was leading and why they deserved it.

It was almost the last thing of the day, but Sam remembered another idea. Jolinar hesitated, cautioning against the possible sign of weakness, but Sam had her knowledge.   
_  
~If there is one thing that these Jaffa are striving for, it is honor and glory, in whatever form. If their CO gives them that, their pride, no matter how little inflated, will not let them see it as a choice of weakness.~_

_*And those who are not chosen?*_

Sam took a moment for thought, and then came back with her answer.

Keeping her tone firm and smooth, she called the four Jaffa who had been least supportive of her. Not saying why, just giving the order to bring back continual reports, she placed sections of the world under their charge. _~Those who are loyal already, will stay so; those who are not, I have now given power.~_

_*You may not be a warrior, but you have the makings of a powerful leader,*_ Jolinar answered.

And there was no backlash. Toc’no may have known enough about the planet to keep it all straight, but neither Sam nor Jolinar noticed any Jaffa assuming that Coron should know the same. Not yet. Succeeding this far had put her in a place where she was owed a chance.  
_  
*Even more so,*_ Jolinar commented as the daylight fell and the temperatures and composures settled, _*they have no other recourse; they would not dare to usurp another commander after such a recent coup. It would be blasphemy. You would have to provide an overwhelming error to even move their minds in that direction.*_

_~Which makes me think we might trick our way through this,~ _Sam answered with a sigh of satisfaction.  
_  
*Don’t let it all loose yet. We have barely scratched the surface of the situation.*_

_~I know, but if bad luck got us here, we seemed to have beat it back. I’m just hoping it’ll hold out long enough to find and execute a plan.~_

Jolinar had no difference in her thoughts, and for a moment there was silent.

But it was only a brief respite, and the next report had the hurried communication and planning back in full gear. There was no rest for them until long after the torches were lit, and by then, only enough time to collapse onto the bed and trust the Jaffa sense of privacy to keep them from noticing the very odd way of performing kel’no’reem.

Sleep was all well and good, but the blunt fact was that it only kept things on an even keel. It didn’t give Sam or Jolinar a shortcut, a cheat sheet, or even an emotional advantage. Until now, they had been used to long periods of silence, both mental and physical; they were both finding it hard work to keep every relevant thought conscious enough so that the other might hear. It was easy for most thoughts to stay just unconscious enough to be silent to Jolinar, and took concentration to keep them all above board. Worse, it wasn’t even natural, and so interruptions and repetitions occurred regularly. Sam hated it, and given Jolinar’s only barely more frustrated attitude, Sam suspected that she had been feeling this way ever since joining with Sam and losing the automatic communication of full blending.

After a quiet time of reflection and breakfast, it was back to the chaos of the world that Jolinar had only caught the name of yesterday: Dorieth. It was a strange name with no obvious meaning, but it was better than “Quetesh’s world”. Sam tried to keep a mental chart of each aspect of their command with Jolinar’s help, but the less-than-ideal circumstances of this world led only to unpredictability. Resupply groups coming through the Stargate, construction accidents at the temple, cart stuck in the mud blocking a main road, a Jaffa acting out in heat-anger and incapacitating several slaves, a whole set of lamps gone missing, heat-anger again causing insubordination among the lower echelons of Jaffa, news of another victory giving Jaffa cause to cheer and hope secretly for reinforcements, evidence of a storm brewing west of the mountains.

It was overwhelming, even with the delegation of so much responsibility, and the concentration and communication going on inside their heads was wearying. It had to be done. And it was some relief that it was going well. The worn out slaves took their rest and did not halt the work going on, and even though the stronger ones were headed towards burnout themselves, Sam predicted (trying not to get her personal feelings for the poor people involved) that the “weaker” ones would be recovered by them. Overall, they would make more progress.

While inspecting the progress going on in the temple construction personally, the relative darkness and cooler temperature gave Sam a flash of peace. She thought wistfully of the quiet of the Tok’ra base, and felt a twinge of chagrin that she had not remembered her father. How was he doing? Did he talk to Selmak? Would he choose to become a host? What would that mean? And then, at the approach of a Jaffa with an update, it was gone.

Sleep deprivation, an abandoned torch, and what resulted was a midday fire in one of the buildings that housed the slaves. The humidity led to dark clouds of smoke, and the fire was quickly put out. But that meant that there was not enough secure space, and slaves had to be recalled from transporting and organizing the tributes that came through the gate to rearrange bare cots and sacks to double up the space in two of the remaining buildings.

The tribute backlogged quickly, and Sam and Jolinar hastily decided to institute an assembly line of transport between the gate and the temple. It wouldn’t have increased speed, except that walking up and down the varying ground was tiring and even the sharp commands of the Jaffa couldn’t make the slaves go faster at the end of the day. This way, they only had to walk a few steps back and forth. It wasn’t very Jaffa, and there were a few unsure looks, but when the backlog was gone at the end of the day, doubts were assuaged.

Returning to their dwelling, Jolinar finally remembered their hyperspace transmitter and the waiting Narim. Sam sighed, realizing that she had completely forgotten, and they found a quiet place to contact him. It was a simple device, and Narim was waiting on the other end.  
_  
“You are well?”_ he asked to start off.

“Yes, our mission is going well, if busily,” Sam answered.  
_  
“There has been only slight progress here,”_ he continued._ “The Tok’ra’s demand for more security on the technology they give us has been met with strong disapproval. My people wish to receive the complete technology, not merely the theories. We are able to reproduce variants over time, but it is not effective enough, or so says the Curia.”  
_  
“So it will take a while?” Sam confirmed, thinking over the limited bartering that the Tok’ra were willing to undergo. Narim knew exactly what technologies the Tok’ra prepared to give in their entirety, and exactly which that they wished to keep secret, in case the Goa’uld ever discovered them.  
_  
“You have nothing to worry about,”_ he answered firmly.

“I’m in a precarious position here, so I need to let you go,” Sam said.  
_  
“Of course,”_ said Narim. There was a slight ping on her device as he sent over some information. _“If there is any update you need to give me in response to this, please contact me again soon.”_

And then the connection ended. Sam had no time to go over it, and so she and Jolinar went to sleep again.

There was no time the next day either. The mud on the roads was still causing trouble for transportation, even though it had been many days since the last rain. With a storm brewing, it wouldn’t get better any time soon. Sam decided that now was the time to bring her first major change.

There were naquadah mines in the mountains, and the refineries sent the non-naquadah gravel to abandoned quarries. Sam recruited some of the Jaffa keeping patrol over the slaves to start carting the gravel to the main road from the settlement down to the farms. The slaves who were responsible for maintaining the touchy roads were given new commands, to start digging down into the mud to provide a trench. It was slow work, and the carts had to be rerouted, but no one could deny that it was an obvious improvement as the gravel was laid in the trenches foot by foot. And there were no slave revolts as a result of the fewer Jaffa keeping guard; any other time, Sam would have bemoaned their beat-down attitude, but in this case it kept her plans from being suspicious.

During the day, Sam kept a close watch on the paving of the road, and so did not notice each time the gate activated. It was evening when a messenger ran up to her.

“News, Master Coron,” he said, breathless and excited. “Our great god Quetesh will deign this planet with her presence in two days’ time.”  
_  
*Too soon,*_ was Jolinar’s first thought, coming automatically.

Sam nodded, accepting the message. She had no words to respond out loud. _~Whoa, that’s not good. This place is a mess, the temple isn’t done, and thank god we didn’t start anything else.~_

_*It will not be disastrous. We double the slaves on the temple and the road, get all those in confinement down in the fields to keep them maintained just enough until after Quetesh leaves.*_

_~The storm? It will be here any day.~_

_*Will not the surges leave the unpaved road soft and ready to work?*_

_~Or wash away our progress.~_

_*So we put slats over it for protection, just in case; I doubt they will be that strong, though, and the gravel has been pounded very firmly. In any case, what would we have eventually added on top?*_

_~Flat stones, but not until the temple was finished and we had more workers. We’ll have to make do with gravel.~_

_*With all the hurry, the temple may be done sooner. At least outwardly.*_

_~I still can’t figure out what its purpose is. The pieces come already assembled, and no one seems to suspect anything but that they’re for construction. They’d be lighter, cheaper, easier to assemble, if that was their only purpose.~_

_*Maybe we won’t know—someone’s coming, can’t be distracted.*  
_  
And Sam focused on the road again. With Jolinar only taking control for small portions of each day due to her frustration with all the complexities, Sam was rapidly learning this role through immersion. Jolinar with only the mental aspect to deal with was much less of a worry to Sam, which led to more ease for her, which circled back to ease Jolinar and so forth. But this caused worry for them both.

Quetesh would have come back eventually, but they had planned for more progress than this before that. If the storm caused any damage, it would take time to repair, and it might not be completed by the time that she arrived. Not to mention that she might not be in a good mood, or their assessment of her response to this Coron taking over for Toc’no might be off. Suddenly they had not only Dorieth to worry about.

But then, Sam had to remember as the fourth full day of their command drew to closing, the sooner Quetesh visited, the sooner Sam and Jolinar could return to the Tok’ra without fear of missing her arrival. Once they were accepted in front of all by their god, they would have no worry in finding excuses for absences from time to time. It would do them well, if they could convince her.  
_  
*She’s unpredictable when it comes to personal matters, but ice cold in her planning. If we can remain professional and logical, there is a good chance that she will as well. There is no need to think we will fail, not yet.*  
_  
Night fell, and Sam for the first time was grateful that Jolinar had a Goa’uld past. Her knowledge of Quetesh looked like it would be their saving grace. She refused to acknowledge the fear that it might also be their downfall. First things first, though, and this news didn’t lessen the horde of other concerns to be balanced and dealt with tomorrow, the day after that, and hopefully the many days beyond that. One thing could be balanced now, and that was sleep.


	8. Leadership

Infiltration was a guilty pleasure, so Sam thought. Even without Jolinar, she felt the surge of excitement and pride at the ability to embody another role, to succeed in a way that she would not have done as herself. Even if it meant coming down hard on people she swore to protect; even if it meant embracing the side of herself that she wasn’t supposed to enjoy. But Jolinar knew all that, and her support of Sam was enough for Sam to believe she hadn’t gone too far yet.

Even so, there were conflicting times. The first time she saw Kasuf, he looked at her with shock, certain that she had been lying the whole time to him. Whatever his role on this planet was, it was not within Sam’s authority to change, and so she saw him little after that. It was good that he was thoroughly convinced—and yet, she had not wanted to break his trust, even if for both their sakes.

And now, as she gave new orders for the planet to be prepared for Quetesh, she was feeling oddly authentic. It wasn’t an act. She really did want Quetesh to be pleased. And her motivation was almost accurate too, so that she wouldn’t be killed for her failure. To be sure, there was that deeper motivation of keeping her position so that she could betray it and rescue the Abydonians, but it didn’t come up that often.__

_*If you can be the role without losing yourself, go ahead,*_ Jolinar advised her in the morning._ *There will always be things to remind you of your true self.*  
_  
And so Sam did, because there was much more to think about than the outside perspective on their mission. The dark clouds, saturated with rain, were drawing close to the green peaks. There were only hours before the deluge would stop all work, and Sam and Jolinar had to determine that nothing would be lost.

A half mile had been paved just yesterday, leading from the temple down to the village, and the gravel in carts beside it had to be hurried out of sight. There was nothing to be done about the fields; even the water resistant plants growing there were not built to withstand the storm surges coming down from the mountains. Some would be damaged; Sam wished now that she had had time to get a better drainage system of levies in place. As it was, there was no cover or protection, and that was that.

The temple itself was almost ready. The inner chambers were fully built, and the rooftop over the main court and veranda was set. At the peak, some pieces were not fully installed, and Jolinar ordered that they be dealt with immediately. Some were roped down if they were out of sight, others were firmly attached ahead of schedule.

And inside, the furnishings were carefully arranged and given their last cleaning; there would be no time tomorrow. There was a three-tier system to the temple, with a nearly public outer court and some smaller rooms branching off of it to house tributes and personal and temple slaves. Further in, there was the grand court with its dais and gold-inlaid walls covered with intricate tapestries. Even still, leading from a door behind one of the curtains, there was the holy of holies, Quetesh’s chamber itself. Two of her most personal slaves had come several weeks past to prepare it personally, and the door had been locked ever since. No one was allowed, both to preserve the divinity of Quetesh and (as Sam and Jolinar saw instantly) for the practical reason of security. Quetesh might be as beloved as a tyrant could be, but she wouldn’t let that lull her into carelessness.

But though no one had reason to go slowly, the rain began to dimple the soft clay before everything was done. Large drops began to batter everything in sight, and as Jolinar gave the final order to get under cover, lightning lit the cloud-darkened settlement and sent the metal-clad Jaffa to safety as fast as any lowly slave. Jolinar and Sam stood on the top step, barely out of the torrential rain. Anyone who looked would see them where they stood, and they intended to be seen without worry or hurry._ *Never give up a chance for a good impression,* _Jolinar explained. But she didn’t need to; Sam understood the concept well enough.

Thunder roared down from the mountains as lightning struck their tips. Jolinar looked up as a bolt struck the top of the temple, sending curious blue lightning down to where it disappeared in the grounded structure. Soon enough the rain was too heavy to see through and the winds picked it up, carrying it past the roof of the temple and driving Jolinar to back up. There was warmth in the inner court, but Jolinar did not want to settle down yet. Rumbles, crackles, and the neverending pounding of the rain on the metal roofs built up the cacophony of the storm. And yet, it was quieter than any other day.

Without any immediate concerns, Sam suddenly realized just how busy their minds had been over the last few days. The quiet felt strange, odd, even if the release from mental strain was most welcome. And instead of retreating to hide in silence, they stood and let the sound overwhelm their senses, beat out the tension, cleanse their minds with unrelenting pressure. An hour, maybe more, later, and a sweet empty weariness filled them. Jolinar finally retired to the inner court, sitting and absorbing the warmth and gentle white noise that was all the rain made from inside. Neither she nor Sam spoke.

And then it ended. Hours after it began, the rain suddenly slowed, and the lack of sound felt out of place at first. Venturing forth, they saw that the clouds were no longer black with water saturation, but were traveling out past the fields and beyond in a light grey-white. There were a couple small snaps of lightning, and the sound of random dripping, but the storm was essentially over.

No more time for rest, Jolinar began to overlook the drenched and battered settlement for damages. A couple smaller buildings uprooted and carried a few feet were the only obvious signs. Looking closer, there were many leaks, many buildings swamped with overflowing mud, and everywhere was deep, sticky mud. No one needed to be told, but Jolinar gave the orders anyway and everyone went back to work.

Buildings were swept out as best they could be, roofs were patched, and every spare sack or blanket was used to stem the water. It was evening by the time the basic essentials were handled, and Sam started to worry even more. The road from the gate to the temple was completely untraversable, and Quetesh would be here tomorrow. To carry her in would be impossible given the depth of the mud; there was no time to pave it. Calling together the slaves tending to lesser concerns, Sam made an executive decision.

The carts of gravel were scattered loosely along the surface of the road, and the dry branches left over from harvesting firewood were placed on top. And over it all, a layer of weeds and foliage that had just started to compost. The gravel mixed with the mud, the branches held it somewhat in place, and with the compost cover over it all, at least no one sunk or slipped. It was temporary and just a little crudely built, but it would have to suffice.

Sam kept the lights going past curfew as all strove vainly to hide the effects of the summer storm. And when it was finally acceptable, she and Jolinar retired to their housing as before. Sleep would not come easy that night.

ooooooo

P3X-130 would have to go on the very short list of worlds Daniel had been allowed to go to without an escort. It wasn’t anything against Daniel personally, so he was told; the galaxy was a dangerous place, sometimes even on safe planets. But this world? No, the only thing he had to worry about was the weather, and no escort would help with that.

The original science team had brought back conflicting geologic records that had led to a long study resulting in the knowledge that, apart from occasional core fluctuations of extreme heat, the planet was very consistently warm. More dry than tropical, but the fluctuations would bring severe changes to that. Not a good place for a military or science base, nor did the Goa’uld have any use for it. Daniel had to admire Jack, he’d picked the perfect world for the relocated Abydonians. Granted, there weren’t millions of choices, but still, it seemed almost inspired.

Daniel felt the heat of the sun begin baking his face as soon as he stepped through the gate, but only for a second. The Abydonians were waiting, and all immediately smothered him with refreshingly un-self-conscious physical displays of their affection for him. He smiled beneath their hands patting his hair, his shoulders, his back, some of the smallest children hugging his legs. Their scent was of earth, sweat, family. Oh, how he’d missed them too.

“My people, my people!” he heard Adros’ voice over the chaos. Slowly they backed away, and Daniel felt the sun on him again. “Welcome back, Dan’yel,” Adros said, and Daniel saw on his brown face that he was trying oh so hard to be dignified and not grin like a mad fool.

“Adros,” he said, slipping into the phonetics of Abydonian as if he had never left them. From there, the language was only a short step as he walked up to Adros. “You are serving your people well, I see.”

They clasped arms warmly, and Adros put an arm around Daniel’s shoulder to lead him away from the gate. “We are finding happiness again,” Adros said. “Even as we wait for the day when our rightful leaders return.” He glanced briefly to Daniel.

Daniel was all for keeping cultures intact, not meddling with their worldviews until they moved beyond them naturally, but the hereditary leadership of the Abydonians had proved problematic. Kasuf was gone, his children likewise, and only Daniel was left as connected to what essentially was the “ruling family”. Since Daniel refused, and since the others were lost, the Abydonians saw every decision they made as temporary.

The process had been slow and crushing to even get them to believe that the SGC could not rescue their lost people. All the SG teams were supposed to be on the lookout for anything about Quetesh, but so far there had been absolutely nothing. And as such a small goddess, it seemed more and more strange that she should have been the one on Abydos. Maybe Jolinar had had a change of heart from Goa’uld to whatever she was; maybe it had even been an accident. He still trusted that Sam hadn’t betrayed them willingly, but the rest was still up in the air.

Regardless, the Abydonians were left almost leaderless, would remain so for an indefinite time, and Daniel’s visit provided a renewal of their strength. He was happy to oblige. Now was the time, the only time perhaps, when he had no other missions to take his time.

The warmth that emanated from the very rocks as well as the sky shot through to his bones, placing him back on Abydos where the days were long and never cold. The nights may have sent them all to bed with chills, some gratefully sharing warmth with another, but the days made up for it. Here, with the core of the earth nearer to the surface, even as the sun disappeared the warmth remained. Daniel was surrounded by it, embraced by it, just as much as by the people whom he had once named as family.

No feast had been prepared, for no crops had been brought to harvest yet. Indeed, it was doubtful what kind of crops would grow here; the geologists were still mapping these things out. Instead of taking MREs, though, the Abydonians had insisted on receiving the ingredients of their choice to make their own foods. Far from home, they still wanted home with them. Daniel was absurdly pleased to see that they agreed that mastagore tasted like chicken, and placed that old familiar bird in the same place on the table. Other than that, though, it was the simplest of fares.

Daniel spent the night mostly talking with Adros, though often joined by others who had been close to Kasuf and his family before the attack. The feel of the Abydonian words in his throat and mouth was like an exercise in memory and instinct all at once. They talked of problems with this world, problems with the people now moved here, and Daniel gave his own opinion even though he knew they would take it as advice. There was nothing else he could do and not appear rude.

But as the night wore on, and Daniel relished the continuing warmth from no fire, they began to speak of joys and successes. Of births, marriages, comings of age, triumphs over this strange nature, and everything Daniel had ever wanted to experience with Sha’re. It was a bittersweet joy that filled him, but it was joy nonetheless.

He slept in a bed that they prepared for him, and night emptied him of emotions. By the time he woke, still comfortably warm, he realized that he could not live like this. Not without Sha’re. Maybe not even with her, if he ever had the chance to test his attachment to his team. Until he had another purpose for his life, he would look forward to upcoming missions.

ooooooo

Morning on Dorieth came with a cool fog that filtered the sun. Quetesh’s arrival was unscheduled, and so everything that could be done was started immediately. The fog burned off swiftly, and Sam and Jolinar stood once again on the temple steps and looked up and down over the prospect. It was hard to remember what it had looked like, weeks ago, when everything was as it should be under Toc’no. But if Sam could remember at all, this was close enough.

And then, the gate began to dial. A Jaffa flashed a signal down, and Sam’s heart began to race as she made her way to the top. The road squished beneath her feet just enough for her to make mark of it, but she made good time. She saw the kawoosh from a short distance off, and by the time Quetesh’s guards had made sure the scene was clear, the goddess herself walked through.

Sam had no idea that she would look like that. Granted, she’d had limited experience with female Goa’uld, but especially given her reputation, she’d built up a picture of Quetesh in her mind. Blond, buxom, every feature porcelain perfect—her experience was partially influenced by the Tok’ra hosts she’d seen in expecting the lighter coloring. Quetesh didn’t match. Her creamy smooth complexion was framed by dark hair, illuminating most plainly her strong features—mouth, cheekbones, nose—with only her large eyes following Sam’s exaggerated beauty picture. She was beautiful still, but the firm lines of her silhouette spoke of power more than delicacy, intimidation more than submission.

“Where is Toc’no?” she opened with, eyes darting around and past Sam.  
_  
*Flatter her, but not too much,*_ Jolinar gave as her most important piece of advice.

“Toc’no was slain for his betrayal of you, my lord,” Sam answered.

Quetesh stared her down, eyes piercing. “And what was that betrayal?”

“Questioning your most perfect will on this world,” Sam answered, meeting her with the look of near-humility that through all those years in the Air Force she had perfected. “His weakness showed plainly as soon as he opposed you, only doing so once you were far from here.” She added the last half as Jolinar pushed the concept to her.

Quetesh’s eyes narrowed and she took a step forward, her glinting grey-green gown tinkling in the mid-morning silence. “Who are you?” she demanded in a low tone.

“Coron, my lord,” Sam answered, trying not to breathe in too quickly.

“I did not see Toc’no as weak,” Quetesh answered.  
_  
*You can’t contradict her,*_ Jolinar cautioned.

“Only where it mattered most,” Sam responded to Quetesh.

Quetesh said nothing, but her cold gaze didn’t detach from Sam’s. “I will go to my temple now,” she finally said.

Sam nodded, bowing her head. “This way, my lord.” With head still slightly lowered, she nodded to her Jaffa and began walking down the path.__

_*That is as much concession as we will get for now; she intends to deal with this more fully later,* _Jolinar said as commentary.  
_  
~Is it paranoid of me to be afraid of what that dealing might entail?~_

_*No, just that you have been observant when we have been discussing her.*  
_  
Quetesh did not mention the makeshift road, nor any damage that might be visible to the discerning eye. Her gaze didn’t seem to linger on any one thing as they passed through, not even on the slaves lined up and kneeling by the road, their knees inches deep in soft mud but not looking as if they cared that their possibly only dry clothing was being soiled. Their god had stooped to this level, and so they were not allowed to have cares.

Jolinar was being helpful in keeping Sam’s heart rate steady, her breathing consistent and not too fast. They were nearing the temple, and did not know what Quetesh would do then. It loomed above them, suddenly looking dangerous as Quetesh came to claim it as her own. What did it do, Sam had to wonder once more, and was this a terrible mistake?

The temple steps, washed clean of the mud and mopped as dry as could be, stood empty for the first time in the day. Quetesh paused, ordered her own Jaffa in Goa’uld, and walked up them. Jolinar had no need to translate for Sam as it was clear that the Jaffa were taking the perimeter. Aside from Sam and Jolinar and their one escort, only Quetesh and a slave were left entering the temple.

The lush smell of the sun-warmed after-storm filled the open outer court, belying the bright torch-lit interior. Everything shone, or at least passively reflected splashes of colors and patterns, around every corner and on every wall. The floors were smooth and polished, and Sam and her Jaffa’s boots clicked loudly compared to the leather and silver slippers of Quetesh (and the sandals on her slave). It was empty of all worshippers, but Quetesh looked around once, and her face remained passive with only the hint of satisfaction in her smirk.

She nodded to her slave, who left silently for the inner sanctum, and Sam did the same to her Jaffa who walked to stand guard at the entrance.

“I see no need to end your life,” Quetesh said, her voice low and only barely reverberating in the room. _*Yet,* _Jolinar said, vocalizing what they were all thinking. “You have not destroyed that which is mine. And,” she added, suddenly facing Sam and giving her a closer look, “I did not expect any success.”

Sam’s worries didn’t leave when Quetesh gave her a long look, up and down, speaking after a moment. “No female among my Jaffa has ever gained the respect that I see granted to you. That armor hides your figure well.” She looked up at Sam’s face, the self-satisfied smirk resting naturally on her lips. “I will hear your case in two hours’ time; see that you do not disgrace my chambers with such unnecessary clanking.” Turning on her heel, she swept across the hall with long, smooth strides towards her own room.  
_  
~She meant the armor, right?~_ Sam clarified, letting her breath out slowly.  
_  
*Indeed she did. We have been summoned to a conference of leaders, not master and slave.*_

_~That’s good?~_

_*That is dangerous. Her testing is not over—we may never know when it is fully over—but she will expect Coron the proud leader. I cannot tell you all you need to know for how you must act, because it will not be the same as with the Jaffa. But there is yet a possibility that she will suspect me, knowing how I speak.*  
_  
Sam still had control, going swiftly back to her chambers so they could change. _~Yeah, I don’t have enough experience with this side. But why should you fear her recognition?~_

_*I can achieve much in altering how I sound and appear, but my essence is the same, and I will not be able to forego all the movements that are particular to me, and it is also true for my words. Quetesh is observant, always, and she has not forgotten my former betrayal.*_

_~Oh, you betrayed her?~_

_*It is a long story, but the answer is yes and no. It is a matter of perspective.*_

_~No, this time I understand; you don’t need to explain now.~ _ Sam focused on her thoughts, letting the control shift back to Jolinar, who immediately dropped her careful managing of Sam’s body to strip the armor now that they were in their quarters. Jolinar had kept the physical manifestations of anxiety to a minimum, but to the detriment of Sam’s mind. She was too nervous, and it wasn’t going to help Jolinar. Already, she could feel it feedback into and from her symbiote. But it wasn’t panic, thankfully, and her body’s calm lent her the focus she needed to wipe her thoughts smooth.

Jolinar finished taking of the armor, and then shedding the protective undergarment. It had been warm and humid today, and there was a light sheen over arms, legs, and face. Splashing with a little warm water, Jolinar sponged herself down and let the air evaporate the water to cool herself. The humidity on this planet had challenged Jolinar’s usual hair gel and so they had gone without, even though it did not matter under the skull cap. However, as leader they would not wear the cap, and so Jolinar had been making do with simply combing Sam’s hair back. It was growing long and silky with all the moisture, and while it didn’t quite detract from their tough image, it certainly didn’t add to it either. But for this evening, they had been ordered to relax just a little.

All Jaffa on this world who were not in uniform wore the traditional long robes in softly woven colors. Jolinar chose a lighter weight, blue-grey one. It was formless, except for the slightly shaping sash from shoulder to hip, but the cut was not billowingly massive. After the short sponge bath, it felt comfortably warm.

That was not their purpose, though. Jolinar called her Jaffa aide to her, informed him of Quetesh’s will, and received the reports of what had gone on after the greeting party assembled. Things were to run as silently and efficiently as possible while Quetesh was here, inconspicuous but busy, and Sam and Jolinar would have to rely completely on their subordinate commanders if Quetesh kept them detained for long. Simply giving out the detailed orders for the rest of the day took over an hour.

That left merely half an hour to finish preparing for their audience with Quetesh. Physically, they were completely ready. It was early afternoon and they were in the coolest place aside from the temple; emotions were all calmed down. Unlike the usual con, Jolinar had to put extra effort into her preparations. Sam could hear her trying to excise her opinions, her memories, her turns of phrase, to leave only the personality of Coron. There was so much that was in their favor, Sam thought, but for once Jolinar stuck to the Tok’ra tradition and over-prepared. Then again, Sam still had almost no idea who Quetesh was to Jolinar—nor the other way around.

The conclusion appeared satisfactory, as Jolinar cooled any remaining anxieties and returned to the temple. Steam was beginning to rise where the sun had baked with no break since rising, but the mud still squished beneath them. Their robes were long and Jolinar’s leather boots were tactfully hidden beneath. The sun had just heated the back of their neck where the cowl did not cover to the point of a tiny beadlet of sweat, when they reached the temple steps. Quietly, they reached the top, shedding their boots for the almost moccasin-like clean shoes beneath them.

Finally, they walked further and further into the temple until they approached the chamber whose contents no one knew. Quetesh’s one silent slave saw their arrival and ducked into the chamber. They had only to wait a few seconds before she came back, nodded, and held the door for them to enter. It shut behind them with a slight click, and they were bathed in the glory of Quetesh’s personal chamber.

It was almost like the inner court, with the gold and jewels on every wall and rich lighting and tapestries to go with them. But the falling curtains from the ceiling, and the lack of dais or steps, added to the intimacy. A table near the front was laid with many of the supplies that Sam had seen delivered to the temple, as well as cooked food that must have been requested and brought during Sam’s absence. But apart from the table and a more comfortable version of the throne in the formal chamber, there was nothing of note. As of course there would not be.

Quetesh sat as if it was a condescension to sit on her throne, resting her divine arms on its unworthy winged sides. And yet she conquered it, did not fully relax. She looked up to Sam and Jolinar with as much power as if she were towering over them. Those eyes had been cold before; the glittering fire in them now creeped Sam out.

“Coron, my self-proclaimed loyal servant,” Quetesh drawled. “Do you always follow your god to the very last character?” Her eyes didn’t glance up to the Goa’uld clock, but Jolinar knew that they were exactly on time.

Jolinar didn’t answer. No answer would work, falling either to the sycophantic side or the insolent one. Neither could be afforded, and so she settled for the neutral option, standing erect and still.

“Sit, and give me your report,” Quetesh demanded, flicking her finger towards the nearby table.

And so they sat, and started just after the beginning, as if the mutiny against Toc’no was unimportant. It was a detail adeptly skipped over, and Quetesh’s level stare did not reveal how much she put on that aspect. Jolinar didn’t skip a beat or stumble, listing off all the facts of successes and figures and goals.

Quetesh demanded more. There was no time for a switch, and so Sam put all her effort into giving Jolinar the little details that the symbiote had not learned by heart. The minutes passed and turned into hours, and Quetesh sat unmoving and unflinching. Her long hand would remove a round grape from the bowl at her side, and bring it to her mouth without her eyes straying from their hold on Jolinar’s.

Eventually, even Sam exhausted all that she knew about this world, and her mind was spinning with the effort. It had been nearly two hours since they entered, and they had no meal since early morning.

“And the roads?” Quetesh questioned after the slightest pause.

Sam would have blinked, astonished that she had noticed that at all. Jolinar answered without a stumble, “Not efficient yet.”

Finally, Quetesh made a move, slipping from her chair with the metallic tangle of her gown. Sam and Jolinar sat at the table, hands resting at their sides, and Quetesh began to walk the few steps over to them. “So,” she said, only just loud enough to hear, “you not only think yourself more devoted than Toc’no was, but you hold your intelligence higher than his.”

After a short swallow, Jolinar turned her head up. “Failure is not an option, so success must be striven for.”

“Not an answer,” countered Quetesh in a low, smooth tone, looking down towards Jolinar.

Now she truly was towering over them, and Sam felt a chill of exactly how much power the Goa’uld held in just their very presence. The way they communicated how swiftly they could snap anyone’s neck without word or even visual threat. It was just there, behind the glitter of their eyes. And Quetesh’s were like slow burning magma, focusing all their piercing intellect on Sam and Jolinar.

Jolinar steeled herself from flinching as one of Quetesh’s hands rose from her side. Her long finger stretched out, and gently grazed Jolinar’s temple with the tip. Insecurity raged in Sam and Jolinar’s mind, but she held her neutral face, still looking up into their acknowledged god’s eyes. Quetesh let the finger drag down Jolinar’s face, just flicking away as it reached her chin.

“My mark does not destroy your face,” she said, indicating the tattoo with her finger still hovering just an inch from Jolinar’s face. And then, before Jolinar had to blink, “It is a shame that you have only the sensibilities of a warrior,” Quetesh said with an exhalation. The predator eyes calmed just a little.  
_  
~Good god, was that...?~_

“If you are starved, you may ease your hunger before returning to your duties,” Quetesh tossed over her shoulder as she returned to her throne some paces off. Lowering herself back in her throne, her gaze returned to Sam and Jolinar with less interrogation.

Jolinar hesitated, and Sam felt her as unsure of what what was the best course. To give in, submit and eat while their god watched, might destroy the strength they had tried to prove. And yet, to deny their god’s pleasure might ruin the favor they might have built. But as Quetesh’s eyes strayed and covered every inch of their body, even Jolinar felt the urge to escape it.

“My duties are pressing,” she said, rising and bowing.

Quetesh did not nod back, but showed no sign of any thought or emotion as they slowly departed.

Jolinar did not turn her back until the door closed and left them in the inner court. The sun was just lowered in the sky, but it felt dark. Jolinar shivered in a short spasm, swallowing the bitter taste at the back of their throat.  
_  
*I had hoped to forget all that.*_

Sam was just glad that this time Jolinar had no desire to carry the role beyond the parameters already set. As they returned to the settlement, they knew that it was not over. They would have to manage with Quetesh for some time more. But this was a twisted game, and they couldn’t be sure that they controlled all their moves.


	9. Gathering

Quetesh did not leave her temple either during the rest of the day, during the night, nor even the next morning. There were calls for various foods, but she did not stir. Sam and Jolinar both found themselves speculating on her intentions and goals on this planet. It wasn’t just routine inspection—or that would be the strangest answer available.

Taking a gamble, Sam ordered the people back onto the road work. Quetesh had made comment of it, and as she wasn’t here to see there was no worry of being too conspicuous with their worry. Technically, they should all be ready and waiting for the next command of their god. But Jolinar was going to match shrewd with shrewd when it came to Quetesh, and Sam had a gut feeling that it would turn out the best outcome.

It seemed that Jolinar, though still overwhelmed by all the information needed to be shared across their partial blending, was more calm than usual. Partly they had grown accustomed to this role, but Sam also felt the joy of being outside in the sun, even if it bore down on them in strength. And though Sam could spend days indoors and hardly blink, the exhilaration she had always felt in the outdoors blended with Jolinar’s feeling of it being her natural place, and she couldn’t even tell that their two views had ever been unblended. The mission was good if only for this.

Now that the day-to-day knowledge had been absorbed enough that they could give more of their focus, the road was coming together with much more ease. The mud was deep, but the silt washed down from the mountains had brought it to a more manageable level. It didn’t take much to level the road down, press in the gravel, and smooth it out flat. Another quarter mile was laid, and Sam started to envision the paving stones needed and the gutters along the sides. Would they even be here that long, she asked herself, not expecting an answer.

The day passed, and as the road curved down towards the fields Sam looked out on their flooded state. No farming could be done, and so she had recruited those slaves for the road, but she would have to deal with it in a few days. The fields were level enough, and most of the water would be absorbed without draining off the precious silt that kept the fields fertile. But even so, this amount of flooding had destroyed some of the plants, and from all the records it wasn’t rare. Sam was just waiting for the chance to map it out completely, put a grid of irrigation ditches just shallow enough to let the floods do their work.

Looking back to the road after her thoughts, Sam saw a Jaffa glance up to the temple. Following his gaze, she saw Quetesh standing on the balcony, a small figure from that far off. Sam saw her stand and look down for a minute, and then turn and go back inside. They didn’t see her the rest of the day.

The houses in the settlement were fully repaired by day’s end, and as Sam walked past towards her own quarters, all seemed well again. Jolinar had given her no doubt that while Quetesh herself had remained absent, her Jaffa’s sharp eyes were on Coron’s every move. But strangely, Sam didn’t fear their report. Today had gone too well for that.

She almost had a moment to find it strange that Jolinar was always there in her mind, and yet Sam didn’t note her thoughts. As if it was too natural to know what was in her mind, even though she didn’t. Recently, it felt as if she should.

Morning brought a sudden end to the ambiguity, and the weather only aided the mood. Sam and Jolinar became uncomfortably roused from sleep by the ambient heat that was oven-like in its pressure. It was almost difficult to breathe in the weight of the air, and they emerged into the rising sun with no relief. Smothering and humid, Sam thought that it must forebode something. Jolinar seemed about to object, as Sam expected she would. However:

“Our lord is awaiting your presence.” Sam spun around to see one of Quetesh’s Jaffa speaking to her.

“Understood,” she answered automatically, then bit the inside of her lip as the Jaffa left. _~Damn, did we forget something like that?~_

_*No, this is just another trick, get us off our mark by asserting all the control. Still, we are expected immediately.*  
_  
Sam nodded, letting Jolinar take them swiftly up the hill to Quetesh’s court again. The armor weighed them down, and a tiny rivulet of sweat ran from Sam’s brow down behind her ear but she couldn’t deal with it. The air emanating from the temple, however, was cool and light—at least relative to everywhere else. Jolinar took a deep breath before entering the inner court.

Quetesh was lounged in her magnificent throne, its size unable to exactly dwarf the tall woman with her even taller headdress wrapped in her dark hair. Up on the dais, this was the position of a vengeful god, not a manipulative one. Sam and Jolinar inwardly hesitated, not knowing what to expect. Quetesh’s face was unreadable, her eyes dark beneath the glory surrounding her.

“Coron, you did not see me immediately upon this morning,” she said, voice reverberating throughout the chamber.  
_  
*She knows she did not call for us,* _Jolinar said to herself and to Sam, words flying through her mind faster than Sam could see until she let them out after a second’s pause. “My lord, there is only one whose mind is infallible, and thus I cannot promise absolute perfection in my service.”

Too excusing? Too groveling? Jolinar’s misgivings aligned perfectly with Sam’s for a few seconds, until Quetesh’s lip twitched.

“Come forward, Coron, and kneel before your god,” Quetesh ordered, her hand flicking out without leaving the arm rest.

Jolinar did not breathe out in relief, merely took the few steps forward to the bottom of the stairs that led to the dais, putting one knee down as quietly as possible in the heavy armor. Her head didn’t stay bowed, but looked up to Quetesh’s knees, bold but not blasphemous.

“Lord Ba’al knows little of this world,” Quetesh continued, and the subject struck like a wild bolt of lightning from a crystal sky. “As he knows little of so many others, with his mind on those who hold undeserved power and might.”

Jolinar barely blinked, and Sam and her remembered their first encounter with the goddess.

“Of the worlds that I have tried to wrest from his hands, he retained all in the first round, save one,” Quetesh continued. “Unfortunately, the slaves are taking some time to gain their senses, but my success had its desired goal. I took on further worlds, and have shown Ba’al for the inferior being he is.”

Jolinar nodded, still looking below Quetesh’s face._ *She is clever, but Ba’al may not be as foolish as she thinks.*  
_  
“In the end, he will open his eyes, even if I have to force realization upon him,” said Quetesh after a pause. “And when that day comes, he will bear down upon this world with his force. You have made progress, but this place will not serve its purpose on that day unless fully finished. Look at me.”

Jolinar looked up, and Quetesh looked back down, the same strange intensity in her face from last night, though it played differently in this formal chamber.

“Coron, I will not see failure in your future,” she said, tone steely. “Finish my temple, and strip this world of resources. When the day of reckoning comes, roads must be looked back upon with everything but regret.”

“It will be so,” Jolinar acknowledged without thought, her mind far from obedience at the moment.

“Many more will be coming to this world soon,” Quetesh finished with a lighter emphasis. “All will be ready for them?”

Jolinar nodded, and Sam knew they were both thinking of the Abydonians.

“Then you are dismissed.”

With a bow, Jolinar removed herself quickly._ *I should have known that this would be dangerous...* _she thought.

ooooooo

“Ow, ow, ow!” McKay whimpered, shaking the one hand he could.

Daniel didn’t make a comment, just waited for him to get out of the driver’s seat. McKay’s insistence that he could at least steer with his injured hand had been expectedly short-lived.

“Don’t take the corners too fast,” McKay said, sitting gingerly in the passenger’s seat, hand hugged close to his chest. “This thing is an antique, but it’s not your kind of old.”

“I do live in the same century you do, Rodney,” reminded Daniel.

“Sure you do.” McKay followed his comment with a grimace as the car jerked into reverse.

With a little less than a week until their next mission, McKay was still not fully recovered. Janet was on him about health, Brymon about therapy, but even the formidable pair together couldn’t deny that he should be fine by himself. Daniel had been surprised when McKay said he was willing to get off pain meds for a chance to escape the infirmary, but then again, Daniel thought that he probably liked the people on the base more than McKay.

“This is so pathetic,” McKay said as Daniel pulled out of the base parking lot. McKay had printed out directions to his apartment, not wanting to have to give constant feedback to Daniel.

“You don’t live that far off, it’s an easy trip,” Daniel said, shrugging.

“Yeah, but there’s a reason I don’t carpool, and it’s not just because I work at a top secret base,” said McKay. “You have no idea how unreliable even the seemingly most consistent people can be.”

Daniel said nothing, taking the first set of corners at a much slower pace than usual and feeling the pull. This car did not ride well.

“How are you getting to your place after you drop me off?” asked McKay after a second’s pause.

“Walk,” said Daniel. “It’s only a couple miles to my place.”

McKay turned and looked at him with the face he normally showed to aliens. “How did you pretend to be sane enough to get this job?”

Daniel’s mouth twitched into a smirk. “You haven’t read the files, have you?”

“No, why?” McKay asked, suddenly curious.

“Oh, I got this job precisely because I was the right kind of insane.” Daniel pulled the car into McKay’s apartment lot, easing back so there would be no jerk as he parked. “Jack did too, actually.”

“You could have mentioned that during the pitch, saved a lot of trouble,” muttered McKay as Daniel opened his door.

“Why, you wouldn’t have joined?” Daniel asked, eyebrow rising as he accompanied McKay up the one flight of stairs outside.

“Well—no,” said McKay, apparently caught a little off. “I mean, it would have made it a whole lot easier to understand...never mind.”

Daniel grinned to himself. “Yeah, well, what would have been the fun in that?”

McKay’s apartment was nothing Daniel didn’t expect, full of mindless clutter and stale food. The scientist collapsed onto his couch, which crunched in response, and curled his hand to his chest again.

“Need anything?” Daniel asked, glancing around with a barely hidden grimace. Mess was one thing, but food mess was another.

“Just the remote,” said McKay. “If I’m not going to be on those drugs, I need something else.”

Daniel walked across the room to where the grey rectangle sat on the chair. There was a hiss as he picked it up. “Cat?” Daniel asked, handing the remote to McKay.

“Oh, his water is self-cleaning and I have his meals set to be served automatically on a timer, so he’s fine,” said McKay as the TV clicked on.

Daniel shook his head as he went for the door.

“Thanks, Jackson,” McKay called after him.

Daniel looked back and couldn’t see the scientist’s head over the sagging couch-back, but that was probably planned. And it didn’t feel unnatural. This was not Daniel’s life, not Daniel’s way of living even, but there was something familiar about it. He and McKay hadn’t known each other that long, but Daniel already felt like he had gravely misjudged the man on their first meeting. McKay was odd, but he was a piece of the SG-1 family.

He almost said ‘you’re welcome’ back, but decided against it. The thanks hadn’t been for the favor, but for something McKay wouldn’t admit to anyone, except maybe in this oblique way that he knew only Daniel would understand. And after one and half years on SG-1, Daniel knew better than most how that process of communication worked.

ooooooo

Quetesh departed Dorieth with a minimum of pomp, leaving Sam and Jolinar with a bigger mess than if she had refused to approve of their succession.  
_  
~How could you not know this?~_ Sam asked, as soon as she muddled out exactly what had caught Jolinar’s attention.  
_  
*Because it wasn’t a known quantity before now,*_ Jolinar answered, fidgeting as she took a tour round the settlement._ *Her plan, her grand plan—it started with Abydos. We caught the attention of Ba’al, which led her there, which gave her the success she needed to continue her plan. And now it is not just a plan, it is a scheme.*_

_~So what do we do, sabotage it? She obviously needs this planet for something.~_

_*No, no, that is not the issue. With our current contacts, it would be simple to undermine this whole rule. Or if not simple, than nothing that we have not done before.*_

_~Oh.~_

_*We may have caused this situation, and now are embroiled in it against all orders. If we leave it as it is, we may open up the ranks of the System Lords to a new threat, which may or may not be useful. If we do anything else, we make the same risk.*_

_~So we confess, and hope that the information we bring is enough.~_

_*Perhaps not,* _Jolinar answered slowly. Sam felt a slight detachment, and she started to worry. _*We can yet play it smoothly.*_

_~Jol, this doesn’t sound good, whatever you’re going to do.~_

_*It is no further than we have already gone. We tell the Council that we believe we have something that needs exploring, and return to report that it is a new danger. Then, volunteering to follow through with it is only natural.*_

_~It’s lying.~_ And before Jolinar could answer, Sam followed up: _~More than usual.~_

_*The truth is not all that matters; why else would there be spies?*_

_~Don’t try to cover it up like that. It’s not the same issue, and you know it. These are people who I respect, who you should trust. We crossed the line for personal reasons, but there’s no need to do it now.~  
_  
Jolinar finished the round, and stood at the top of the paved road._ *And if they considered us too involved to continue on the mission? Would you just let it go to another operative?*  
_  
Sam wavered, fighting with herself for the right answer, and seeing only a mish-mash of emotions and logic, morals and laws._ ~What is your motivation, anyway? Why did you, and why _are_ you, doing this?~_

A little to her surprise, Jolinar took a few moments before answering. _*That is the question. You have claimed to be qualified to make those kinds of determinations before, why don’t you do so now?*_

_~Because I’m just not sure,~_ Sam answered. _~I don’t even know my own thoughts, much less yours. The only thing I remember is that you felt guilty, but how does that fit into deception on this scale?~_

_*Maybe our emotions have been aligned for longer than you think; maybe ever since your heart broke for Sha’re’s people mine was following suit, clouding my mind. Maybe I cannot stand by while Quetesh ruins lives on my watch. Maybe that and knowing that I am directly responsible for whatever happens is just too much.*  
_  
Sam heard, and understood. _~But the lying?~_

_*Anything may be sacrificed for the greater good, even truth.*_

_~Well, there we don’t agree.~_

_*Says the one who whole-heartedly agreed to our strategy...*_

_~It was not my idea. And yes, even I break my own scruples sometime. Am I not allowed a little regret that we ever started down this path?~_

_*Allowed, certainly; take some of mine, will you not? I can scarcely see past my own regrets, piling on one another like grains of sand to create a dune.*_

Sam didn’t even try to sort out the emotions as the stood for a minute, the sun beginning to fall towards the horizon behind them.  
_  
~Hey, at least something worked,_~ Sam commented._ ~The Jaffa appear to be functioning under their sub-commanders, and we’ve hardly had a complaint or question all day.~_

_*Whatever happens, we need to get back home,*_ said Jolinar with a sigh.

Narim, her father, blending, everything. They had settled too far into this role, and Sam had almost forgotten all that still hung in the balance. _~Okay, so we need to get things ready to go back.~_

_*Samantha, please, let us merely play this out to its fullest. A confession would only confuse matters further, and lead to confrontations and distrust. And yes, I know, the distrust came from us first, but there is so much more at stake here.*_

_~And there always will be,~_ Sam protested mildly_. ~I just—I can’t believe we started down this slope and I didn’t recognize how steep it was. But you’re right, we need to ride it to the bottom.~  
_  
And at least they were agreed on that.

ooooooo

Hammond walked through the SGC, hands by his sides, back only slightly slumped, watching as his people carried on with their days. They had no idea what was going on above them, and if Hammond had his way they never would. From Simmons to this, from an interrogation that only proved in vain because SG-1 saved the world, to a diplomatic mission gone wrong and an Air Force general lost with more classified information than a report could express.

New planet exploration was almost on hold for the time being, as stuffed shirts in Washington argued over whose fault it was that Jacob Carter had been lost. Even if “Jacob Carter” was just another word for “top secret information” to them, it was the former that struck Hammond the most deeply. It was his failure, his responsibility. And he didn’t know what his penance should be: stay here and do his damnedest to mend what was broken, or retire before his obviously failing judgment endangered the world again.

Daniel nodded and smiled as he passed Hammond in the hall, oblivious to the fact that his very job might be hanging in the balance. His chance of recovering his wife, more importantly. If politics succeeded, the SGC might be doing nothing more than damage control for the rest of its existence.

Hammond hoped to God that it wouldn’t come to that, but all he could do was wait and see. No, he could also make sure that no one else had to share the waiting. Jack might suspect, but he didn’t know. That was Hammond’s burden, and his alone.

ooooooo

With Quetesh gone, it was simple to provide an excuse that she had given them a specific task. Sam approached her subordinates, giving them the news that she would be absent for some time, and appointing each of them duties in her absence. Both she and Jolinar had no fear of disapproval; they had earned much respect before, but with Quetesh’s stamp of approval it was now unconditional. There was no question in their eyes as Sam laid out the plans for the next week.

It felt wrong to be leaving this place, to be away and let it work on its own. Role or not, this world was Sam and Jolinar’s responsibility, and Sam couldn’t let it go. She was a leader.

Things fell back into their old places more and more as she made her more covert plans, however.

“Narim,” said Sam, pulling out the communicator that had been lying abandoned for some days now. “What is your progress?”

He smiled through the link, looking relieved more than anything else. _“I feared that you would not return contact in time; the Curia decides the final piece today.”_

“How did it go?” asked Sam, suddenly curious about their official mission’s progress.

Narim sighed._ “In most areas I believe the Tok’ra received what they wished. Slight concessions were made about the reproduction of the tunnel crystals by synthetic means, but it was agreed that the technology should be masked to hide its origins.”  
_  
Sam nodded. “Sounds good. And the weaponry?”  
_  
“There was no such issue on the table,”_ said Narim with a slightly confused frown.

“Sorry, I meant the defense systems,” corrected Sam.  
_  
*Which are weapons, if used in such a manner,*_ amended Jolinar silently.  
_  
“My government could not support deceiving the people by sending technicians covertly to help install the technology on the Tok’ra, and as your people did not wish to be exposed, in the end the compromise was that you receive the blueprints.”  
_  
“And that’s all?” Sam asked.  
_  
“No,”_ said Narim, perhaps just slightly amused even though he appeared worn._ “But the rest is all related to the smaller matters, and nothing went unexpectedly.”_

“Thank you, Narim,” Sam said, smiling. Her device beeped as the results of the negotiations were downloaded onto it.   
_  
“It is not an occurrence I would wish for again, but there is no cause for regret left,”_ Narim conceded, his smile still warmly polite.

Feeling the touch of awkwardness, Sam nodded, and the connection ended. _~I do hope this isn’t the last contact we have,~_ she said to herself. _~He agreed, but god, it feels like I used him.~_

_*And if we hadn’t?*_

_~I know, but our strangely good timing doesn’t make up for it.~_

_*I know; I understand. But now, we must go home.*  
_  
Sam nodded to no one in particular as she opened up Narim’s neatly typed report on the screen. The persona of Coron was fading fast, and she was starting to feel vulnerable again. It would be good to go home.


	10. Choice

Debriefing the Tok’ra Council had never been so anti-climactic. As Sam had almost forgotten their official meeting, she had also forgotten that they would not have to explain the multitude of things on Dorieth. It wasn’t the relief that it should have been, and all the information in her mind begged to be granted escape, or at least shared among others. As it was, she reeled off diplomacy and political machinations as if they really mattered to her.

The last part was the only tricky one. As the meeting began to break up, Jolinar dropped the one tiny bomb they had. “We were approached by an anonymous source with a lead about a possible change in the Goa’uld hierarchy; may I request that our next mission be following it?”

Ren’al, who was presiding in Garshaw’s current absence, raised her eyebrows considerably. “That is surprising. But yes, if you think it worth examining.”

“I do,” answered Jolinar simply. With a nod of her head, the meeting was over. _*See, not so difficult.*  
_  
Sam didn’t have a mind to protest. She just wanted to get to the infirmary. Recognizing this more than anyone else could, Jolinar spared no time for a meal and took her where she wanted to go.

She looked first for Larys or Dorin, wanting to have the knowledge to prepare her for whatever had transpired. But there was no immediate sign. Expectant of anything, Sam walked through the alcoves, looking from left to right until she found him. Jacob was lying on his side, head supported by a pillow, eyes closed in slumber. He wasn’t in fetal position—which Sam had almost feared might be the case—but rather looked weary as the shadows beneath his eyes and slow breathing indicated. Sam let her step make noise, and his eyes slowly opened, snapping wide as he saw her.

“Dad,” she said, “I didn’t know how asleep you were.”

“You’re back,” he said, rolling onto his back and sitting slowly up in the bed.  
_  
~And you’re not dead,~ _Sam thought. “Sorry it took so long,” she said, sitting next to his bed. “You okay?”

“I’m not dead,” he said, tipping his head slightly. “And I’m not with the Goa’uld.”

Sam bit her lip, wondering if that meant the Tok’ra were leaving him alone. “Oh?”

“You weren’t kidding about how fast you pick things up like this,” Jacob said, a tint of amusement coloring his lined face. “Of course, I don’t know if you had Selmak this early on, but that’s enough to poke holes in anyone’s doubt.”

Sam felt relief. “Ah, well, I don’t think I needed Selmak for that part.” She eased herself on the seat, watching the relaxation in his movements. “So, you talked?”

 “Eventually, yes,” said Jacob, nodding. “After she threatened me with silence.”

“Selmak?” Sam asked, confused.

Jacob smiled, a tired one but a smile nonetheless. “No kidding. I only went because you told me to, but I wasn’t going to give her any help. She just stared at me for hours, with a terrible expression like she was going to enjoy breaking me down like this. When I finally gave up and asked if she really was a Goa’uld, she smirked, and I don’t remember talking so much as being interrogated after that.”

Sam nodded. “So, busy week?”

“If it’s real, yeah,” said Jacob, grimacing and putting a hand up to rub at his neck.

Sam dipped her head, looking at her own hands for a second. “Apart from that?” she asked, looking up.

“I was wondering when you were going to ask,” Jacob said with a sigh, leaning back against the pillow. “Selmak asked me if I wanted to die, and we both agreed that was an idiotic question. But I was ready to die, back on Earth. It’s just—not the same out here. I’m not prepared for it, and I don’t want to do it like this.”

“So...what?” Sam asked, heart starting to quicken its pace.

“So, I’m not sold on how blending is going to make my life better,” Jacob said, with a slight distaste on his face as he looked her straight in the eyes. “But it’ll give me one. I’ll do it, and I’ll try to make the best of it.”

Sam swallowed, not able to speak for a moment. “Wow, dad, I...” Selmak and dad, together, saved, bring around all the worries, fears, hopes, dreams—Jolinar felt the flood, and stepped in.

“You have our sincere gratitude, Jacob,” Jolinar said aloud, and he didn’t visibly flinch. “Samantha and I are close to Selmak, and to have you make this choice has eased two of our greatest burdens. The Tok’ra will be honored by your decision.”

“Thank you, I think,” said Jacob, brow creasing just a little.

“It’s great, dad, that’s what she tried to say,” Sam said, coming forward again with a wide grin on her face, eyes wet at the corners. “God, you have no idea how I worried, how we worried.” She put out a hand to squeeze his. “Knowing Selmak, I don’t think you’ll regret it. In fact, I should probably be the one worried, with you two teamed up.”

Jacob just looked at her for a second. “You talk about it like we’re getting married or something.”

Sam paused, caught off guard. “What? Well, maybe, I don’t know really.”

“No, I mean you can’t even see the weirdness anymore,” said Jacob. “It’s like—it’s like something natural to you, which I don’t get. Is that what blending does? Do you forget things like doors?”

“Not quite,” Sam said, answering the last point honestly. She held back for a second. “Dad, what do you think is going to happen when you share all your thoughts and feelings with someone? It’s not like you’re tied together at the hip, it’s closer than that. It has to be, even if you didn’t think it had to.”

“And that doesn’t scare you?” Jacob asked, looking out from under his brow. “It sure as hell scares me.”

“I didn’t really have time to be scared of that before I was in it almost all the way,” Sam admitted. “I don’t know if that was good or not, but it worked.” She paused, frowned. “Are you sure? You’ve made up your mind?”

“Made it yesterday, actually,” Jacob said, nodding. “Selmak agreed that we should wait until you returned.”

“I’m glad you did,” said Sam, smiling.

ooooooo

Daniel frowned as he read his memo for the week’s schedule, breakfast bar in the other hand as he walked up to his lab rather than taking the elevator. “Hey, Jack,” he called without looking up, and out of the corner of his eyes saw the grey head stoop slightly as the camo-clad figure caught itself and turned around.

“How do you do that?” Jack asked, hands slightly emphatic towards his paper.

“Weren’t we going on a mission in a few days?” Daniel asked, furrowed brow pointedly ignoring Jack’s question. “There’s nothing on the schedule.”

“No, we weren’t,” said Jack. “You imagined it.”

“Maybe because we should be?” asked Daniel, still ignoring Jack’s side comments. “It’s been more than two weeks.”

“The General schedules things, not me,” said Jack, shrugging. “Dixon and I have been on a couple back-up missions, and haven’t you been some place?”

“Yes, but that’s apart from the team,” Daniel said. “It just seems—odd. Unless he thinks McKay’s essential, but wouldn’t he have said that?”

“You’re paranoid,” Jack half whispered for affect.

Daniel rolled his eyes. “I’m not worried, just thinking out loud.”

“Is that something new? I never noticed before.”

Daniel frowned. Jack was distracting him again. “Why were you on Level 19?”

“Nothing in particular,” Jack said lightly. “Bye Daniel.”

As Jack continued down the hall away from Daniel, the archaeologist’s frown deepened as he wondered. He had guessed Level 19 simply because Jack usually took the elevator if he was going more than two floors, but as Jack hadn’t denied it, Daniel remembered why that was the first one to pop into his head. Sam’s old lab lay dusty, as McKay had inexplicably expressed no desire to see or take it. Of course, Sam’s legacy had been conveyed to each new member, and none of them dared touch it. Daniel himself hadn’t gone there since she left, but he’d walked past it and thought of her.

And yes, it was exactly Jack to not spare his knees and walk those extra four flights of stairs just so he’d have a chance to do the very same thing. Moving on was one thing; but no one expected them to forget, so they had to figure out for themselves just how and what and when to remember.

ooooooo

“You understand that Jacob is hesitant?” Jolinar asked Selmak, sitting by her bedside as Sam had done for Jacob. Saroosh looked like it had painful to wait even this long.

“Many hosts are,” Selmak acknowledged. “Less often to his extent, given his unique background, but he understands and is willing to commit. I have judged him as one who will not regret it.”

“And yes, of all of us, you are most qualified to know,” Jolinar said. “Samantha is overjoyed; she wishes you both very well.”

“Jolinar, are you here to speak to Saroosh?” Selmak asked, voice rasping in her throat a little.

“I do not wish to tax her strength,” said Jolinar, worry once again on her face. Sam felt the pulls of selfishness, but knew that they had all prepared for this moment, Saroosh more than anyone. And in a way, Sam felt that she had said goodbye long before; maybe that was Jolinar’s influence.

“Then I will see you again with new eyes,” said Selmak, a little breathily.

Jolinar dipped her head one last time. She rose, and then stooped to brush her lips against Saroosh’s forehead. “Farewell,” she whispered.

Sam felt a flow of catharsis, and realized that it was exactly what she had wanted to do.

Jolinar turned, nodding to where Larys stood, and Dorin just beyond. As they walked past, Jolinar gave control back to Sam. Dorin rolled in Jacob’s bed, pausing as Sam past.

“See you on the other side,” Sam whispered, squeezing his hand.

They didn’t stay for the implantation. A proper blending would take hours before they regained consciousness, more than a day for true safety and comfort. There was always the chance that something could go wrong, and so neither Sam nor Jolinar wished to be in that atmosphere, to have that worry right in front of them the whole time.  
_  
~I need to talk to you,~ _Sam said, as soon as they were headed for their own quarters to change.  
_  
*It is not as if you need an appointment,*_ Jolinar responded.  
_  
~Before we go back, there’s something we need to do. And that is exactly what my dad is doing.~_

_*Are you suggesting that we fully blend?*_ Jolinar asked, pausing in her surprise.  
_  
~Yes,~_ Sam said without hesitation._ ~If for nothing else, because I am worn from the necessities we took on Dorieth. The barrier almost destroyed us in a single instant, and then tried to do it through frustration and exhaustion. I can’t put you, or me, through that again.~  
_  
Jolinar pursed her lips, walking again. _*I do not think you realize exactly what you are choosing.*_

_~I’m not going anywhere for a long time,~ _Sam said. _~And I need this. Hell, you’ve needed it from the start, and I didn’t realize what that meant until this last mission. I think, after living with you like this for a few months, that I know what I’m getting myself into.~_

_*And you understand how close our personalities will become? How there is no privacy?*_

_~I wouldn’t—become you, would I?~_ Sam asked, a moment of faltering.  
_  
*No, but our influence upon each other would be massive. You would remember my lives before you, every dark and terrible thing that I did or was done to me. And Samantha, there are more than you can possibly imagine.*_

_~I know,~ _said Sam. _~It’s not like I’m all eager to be digging around in there. Surely this isn’t as big of a step as you’re making it out to be?~_

_*Nothing is certain. But one thing is most likely; any possibility of separation without harming our minds is very slim.*  
_  
Sam took a minute, as Jolinar entered their room and began slipping into a less restricting piece. _~As I said, it’s not like there’s another option now. I have to think of now, of the near future, not long-term possibilities.~_

_*Then we may speak to the Council and proceed,* _said Jolinar, and Sam felt her weight suddenly vanish, leaving only minor worries behind. And that was thanks enough.  
_  
~Martouf and Lantash?~_

_*Have always wished for our harmony. We will speak to them, of course, but they will understand more than any other.*  
_  
Sam had spoken, almost on impulse. Her mind had wandered to Jolinar’s earlier request so many times on Dorieth, and now it seemed like she had agreed to this already. She had been logically certain that it was the right, the only, way to carry on their bigger mission. Now, as Jolinar’s emotions found a new peace at just the thought of this step, she knew she had been right in much deeper ways.

ooooooo

The hours past, and worry ebbed and fell. The Council had scarcely an interest in Jolinar’s state of blending, and Ren’al almost looked surprised that it had not already happened. Sam felt extreme satisfaction that no one questioned that she might one day leave with Jolinar’s knowledge. Trust; it felt good to have it again.

Martouf was preparing to leave to bring supplies to another Tok’ra base, but he paused to hear Jolinar’s account, and when she was finished, said only: “I am glad.” The smile of relief on his face said much more.

But Sam had to stop, to make her way to the Tok’ra bathhouse. It was fast, too fast. It didn’t matter that she had thought it all out, she just couldn’t jump in like this. Jolinar assured her that no preparation would be needed, but Sam knew that—and wanted it anyway.

Sinking into the depths of warm, scented water, Sam let her head dip below the surface. Hair flowing slowly around her face, she let her breath out in long thin streams of bubbles. Jolinar had nothing to say, for what was probably the last time in a long time. _~I can’t really believe in all of this. I used to be a nobody, just another military scientist working for the government. I didn’t make my own choices, I followed orders. Who knew that all it would take was to be ripped from my family and friends to realize how much a life of my own making scares me.~  
_  
She rose to the surface for a long slow breath, and Jolinar replied. _*But you didn’t choose this.*_

_~Not the beginning; but that wasn’t all that different, as much as I didn’t admit it. I was lucky, going through life and being ordered to do what I wanted. I wouldn’t have felt so free if I had had different desires.~_

_*I am not seeing how your current position offers you choices.*  
_  
Sam paused before sinking below the surface again, this time with eyes open and looking up at the refracted light rippling on the surface. _~I could have chosen to turn off the shield at the last moment, let Daniel take us on Abydos. We weren’t close enough for you to figure out until it was too late. I could have chosen to give up on the Abydonians, keep looking for a new host. I could have denied what the Council wanted us to do together. Luck has not been in our favor, but I have made choices. We have.~_

_*And it scares you.*_

_~It does. I can’t afford to make a mistake, especially not now, but hesitating might be a mistake of its own. And no one’s pushing me in any direction, so any mistake I make will be mine and mine alone.~_

_*Ah, so this blending is so that any blame will be ‘ours’?*_

Sam pushed out her last air with some force, rising to take another breath before sinking down to the bottom of the pool. _~Don’t even joke like that... I haven’t figured out what I really want out of life, my long term goals. I thought I was going to be on SG-1 forever, but if any dream’s gone, that one is. Deep down, I think my ambition thought that wasn’t big enough anyways. So I’m not going to worry about it, not yet. I won’t do anything drastic, I’ll just deal with the situation now. And what I want now, is to lose the awkwardness, lose the tension, lose the extra stress that I inadvertently added to everything. Things are bad enough without that.~_

_*After talking it through, of course...*_

_~Yes, well, that’s a habit I find it hard to shake.~_

_*I can deal with it.*_

_~Good. Good, I’m glad.~_

_*Does it still feel too fast?*_

_~It feels exhilarating. I can’t know if that means I’m alive, or that I’m just about to burn out.~_

_*If it is worth anything, I think you are too strong for the latter.*  
_  
Sam pushed herself off the smooth crystal pool bottom, left the comfortable closeness of the water and let the air cool her heat-flushed skin. Wrapping herself in the bathrobe hanging ready, she brushed her wet hair back from her face and took a deep breath of the coolly humid air. _~That was it.~  
_  
Perhaps she was cleansed from her worries, or her past. Perhaps she was reborn from a pseudo-womb into independence. More than likely for Sam’s rationale, it was just the natural stress-relieving scents and sensations of a bath.

She was going to blend with Jolinar. She was going to know first-hand what it was like to be a Tok’ra, and when it was over, her father would be waiting for her with all the same sensations. Not the traditional father-daughter experience, but almost appropriate for the situation.

ooooooo

They retired to their quarters, and Jolinar took one last deep breath. She lay back on the bed, resting her head on the pillow and her arms gently resting on her stomach. Her eyes closed, and it was all dark to Sam.  
_  
*Relax now, and empty your mind if you can.*_

Sam’s heart almost raced, but Jolinar kept it slow as usual. She was lost in the back of her mind, and felt only Jolinar. Slowly, surely, Jolinar seemed to encroach on her space. The invisible barrier became visible only just as it was broken, and Sam fought to stay in the open. She wanted this, she would be fine, it wouldn’t hurt.

She couldn’t see where the physical sensation of Jolinar’s tendrils stretching forth stopped and became the psychological one of thoughts crossing over.  
_  
Darkness, crouching underground, zat in hand, brushing a stray hair that was too long away, waiting for Malek.  
_  
It wasn’t her hair. She didn’t know Malek. Until now.

Sam felt Jolinar apologize, felt that she had gone too fast, made the transfer too wild. But Sam didn’t forget what she saw.

Jolinar came closer, Jolinar opened up to her, Jolinar was becoming Sam’s other personality. Sam couldn’t hide her excitement, her fear, and her strange desire for this to happen. She had always been just out of reach; Sam needed to know, needed to feel, who she really was.

As Sam felt the memories and thoughts seep into her mind, she stretched out just for an instant, touching that great unknown.

_Elista, eyes rolled back in her head, lying where she could see her as if Elista was not she herself. She wasn’t. Eyes glowed as the Jaffa cruelly grinned, reaching for her. Symbiote strength was a surprise to him as she rose from kneeling by Elista’s side, striking out and ripping the torture stick from his hand. Striking his face with the blunt end, and then stabbing the end into his pouch, watching him writhe to death almost as mockery of Elista. Tears fell, Rosha sympathized and cringed all at once, and she barely made it to safety before collapsing._

Sam pulled back, almost hiding, trying to lose the memory. She wasn’t supposed to know this. Jolinar had warned her. She had to feel all the losses, but the pictures could remain in darkness.

Jolinar’s mind came closer and closer, filling the edges of Sam’s mind and coming closer to her focus of consciousness. It wasn’t enough to wait; the stabs of memory would come if she waited like this, all focused on one thought. Empty your mind, Jolinar thought, or Sam remembered her thinking, and did it make any difference?

Sam did one better. Taking her little corner of consciousness, she flung it like a wave towards Jolinar’s slow blending advance. Let herself spread into a broader consciousness, soak up Jolinar all at once, get this over with once and for all.  
_  
Physical darkness, bright light, pain, loss, captivity, slavery, power, control, all in an instant and then gone. Pain, bitterness, fear, hope, love, pain again, hope, hope, friendship, love. It lingered, and vanished. Shame, determination, relief, hope, teamwork, trust, love, pain, loss, love, love, love, love. Confusion, frustration, love, hope, fear, love, friendship, determination, captivity, relief, communication. Catharsis._

Sam’s mind was wrapped around Jolinar’s, woven in and among her thoughts, felt hers fill the empty void left so long on the borders of her mind. She was working, trying to make this as easy as possible, getting lost in the pure joy of a state she only knew as natural now. She felt Sam’s wave of permission granted, let her last guard over emotions vanish, and the quick summary of her life as a Tok’ra filled Sam. She loved Sam for knowing this, loved her for letting Jolinar in.

They lost time, Sam felt years almost as minutes, and lives as stages, and her mind swirled with Jolinar’s. Jolinar had no more control, couldn’t stop it anymore than Sam could stop her hunger. It was happening, the right way, the way that it was supposed to go. And the physical returned, and Sam felt her eyes ache and tears burn down her face, and they were Jolinar’s and hers and all the same. It had been too long; the moment was too intense.

Blended. Two in one. A team, a pair, joined by mutual trust and faith. It was the only right thing in the universe.

Joy and relief from months of struggle flowed out, and Jolinar wept, and Sam wept for reasons she couldn’t even label as clearly.

Tok’ra. This is what it means.


	11. Perception

Sam felt no memory as she woke from her sleep, with only the time piece on the tunnel wall displaying any sense of time. Eight hours. It was too early in the morning for anything to be happening, but they needed more sleep anyway.

Jolinar felt how the release of tears was wearying, and she felt Sam’s easy acceptance. Jolinar didn’t cry, not like this. Sam didn’t really care. She felt exhausted the same way, nose sniffly until Jolinar quickly tweaked that. Sam could feel Jolinar do it as if she herself was, almost.

Do you need that suppressed, Jolinar wondered, and Sam’s wondering response was negative, if confused. It was weird, but not quite disturbing. Sam’s need to think through everything instead of accepting it was weird as well, or so Jolinar answered. There was still an edge to their minds where commonality failed, but that wasn’t the unnatural feeling that Sam had.  
_  
~Is something different?~ _she asked, knowing that she no longer had to explain the intent behind her words.  
_  
*We waited too long, that is all. It feels like a new attachment, no?*_

_~But it will fade,~_ Sam understood.

With time and sleep. Sam needed no words, and the room disappeared into oblivion again. No dreams, despite their mutual fear that they might arrive.

Jolinar woke with a deep intake of breath, sending excitement all through their veins. Today would be a good day. Selmak, saved, dad/Jacob, saved, and the Dorieth mission on the verge of being sanctioned by the Council itself. Tuck Sha’re and Daniel and Jack and Teal’c all far away where they didn’t cloud the goodness of today.

The corridors were smaller today than yesterday, Sam noticed, and Jolinar didn’t have to explain personal preferences mingling with perceptions. Jolinar was less comfortable in her clothing, just for a moment as they dressed, and in a moment of brief change decided against hair gel. It was unclear if it was a concession or a simple desire for change. Both could easily be one now, anyway.

Breakfast tasted stronger when Jolinar’s thoughts about it stayed their course right where Sam could see them, forgetting the flavor only so much as was possible, while Sam thought about if it really might taste different, and what if taste was almost purely psychological. Jolinar was intrigued too, but didn’t notice until Sam did, and Sam suddenly wondered if everyone had these curiosities but only scientists acted on them. It wasn’t a test they could do now, though, and Jolinar knew that better than anyone.

They sat at their usual table, and looked across to where Martouf and Lantash would sometimes come. And Sam missed them, with their smiles and patience and quips, and the cutely tender physical displays of affection that were unconscious after so many decades. It was an easy remembrance, and fondness built from a shallow acquaintance met with fondness distilled from something much deeper and were in sync for the rest of the meal.

Jolinar thought of dad as Jacob, and Sam was amused, off-put, and pleased that a distinction was already clear for something so important. Jolinar had no parents, not of the human way of thinking of them, and the words meant only very little. Any concern now was for Jacob as a close friend of Jolinar’s through osmosis. And for him as the new companion to beloved Selmak, self-proclaimed and self-proved oldest and wisest of the Tok’ra, although perhaps both were not always true at once.

By the time they reached the infirmary, it had been over fourteen hours since implantation. Sam saw her father lying peacefully on a bed, hands resting over his chest in a quiet, innocent fashion. Not like Selmak or Jacob at all. Saroosh had died peacefully, had been removed and reverently given a bodily farewell. Sam wouldn’t forget, Jolinar couldn’t, and Sam wondered if her grief could grow with the more she felt pieces of Jolinar’s memories of days gone by.

They sat by Jacob, waiting until he might wake up. Sam might have been bored with an empty mind, but everything that was new or enhanced caught her attention, and she looked at her own mind with intrigue. Jolinar was searching with more intent, exploring a mystery that she had pondered for months. They danced around memories and feelings and processes, until Sam heard a change in the breathing rhythm.

“Dad?” she asked, and was astonished how control was so neatly transferred without hitch like this.

“Is that what our name shall always be?” asked Selmak, blinking through her father’s eyes. And Sam could see it, see Selmak there, invisible and yet so plainly in that face. She could feel Selmak even though her eyes said that it was Jacob. Her eyes were learning quickly.

“Not unless you want it to be, Selmak,” Sam answered, smiling.

Selmak sat up, stretching his arms. Jolinar made the gender switch so naturally that Sam took a few seconds to notice, and then realize she’d have to get used to it eventually. “Well, that went without an issue,” he said. “Jacob is overwhelmed and does not know how to come forward yet.” Selmak frowned, nose wrinkling. “Not true,” said Jacob’s voice a second later. “I was just being polite.”

Sam grinned. “I can still call you Dad, right?”

“Whoa...” Jacob said, eyes widening. He shook out his hands. “No more arthritis—why didn’t anyone say that would happen?”  
_  
*Which is...* _Jolinar wondered, knowing that Sam knew, but just pointing out that none of them could have explained it, and not even the Tok’ra hosts might remember.

“Still unsure?” Sam wondered, looking closely at his face.

Of course, Jolinar thought, just as Jacob gave her the look. “Okay, I get it,” Sam said with a laugh. And when was her last laugh, why was she doing it now? Sam hadn’t even noticed.

Jacob’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her. “You look...” he said.

“Different? Yeah, I know what you mean,” said Sam.

Two souls in one body, that is Tok’ra, Jolinar thought. It was the simplest explanation—and the most true.

“One thing you can say for Selmak here, but sh—he doesn’t feel like someone who’s lived thousands of years,” said Jacob, clenching and unclenching his fingers as if the painless sensation was the greatest thing in life.

“Really? Jolinar feels...” Old? Not really. Just—long-lived. And that didn’t make any sense, but it was true. “But yeah, I’m starting to think symbiotes don’t ever lose their passion for life.”

Jolinar wondered if losing that was possible, trusted Sam when she said that it was, that Sam had seen it happen before.

“So,” Jacob said, his face becoming more serious. “I’d like to speak to Jolinar.”

Sam nodded, interested, closing her eyes to let the transfer happen. Jolinar was a hint apprehensive, but no more.

“Jacob,” she said, nodding to him. “Have I earned your understanding?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” said Jacob slowly. “Selmak made sure that the first memories I had of you were the ones pertinent to your...situation...with my daughter. I’ve seen how you’ve behaved, how my Sam reacted.”

“Then Selmak convinced you that your Sam is still here,” commented Jolinar, not as surprised as Sam was.

“You’ve changed her,” Jacob said. “And I think you know that. But we all change, and what’s happened here is enough for two lifetimes, if I’m reading things correctly.”

And missing a whole lot more, thought Sam. She couldn’t deny that she was a different person now; not drastically so, maybe, but different. She thought about different things, had different needs, different goals. It was just part of the experience. And Jolinar knew it too, knew that she was behaving differently than if Rosha was still alive.

“But I can honestly say I believe that you told the truth,” said Jacob finally, letting out a little of his breath. “You didn’t mean for this to happen, and I’m glad you’ve made the best of it.”

“Then I have earned your forgiveness?” Jolinar asked, honestly.

“If you do right by my Sam, yes,” said Jacob firmly. “But I warn you, that’ll be a hard call.”

Jolinar’s eyebrows rose and fell in a second. “Of course.”

“God, Selmak’s already focused on what happens next,” Jacob commented, looking through Sam and Jolinar as if he was focused on what was going on in his own head. “He’s very happy, smugly happy. And...he says that he’s starting to get a handle on all those parental emotions he never understood before.”  
_  
~Oh no,_~ thought Sam.

Jolinar cocked her head, confused.

Jacob said nothing, just sighed. “Well, I think that’s all I have a mind for at the moment. Selmak has some words.” He dipped his head, coming up with the unmistakeable look of Selmak.

“What are these parental emotions that you and Jacob share?” Jolinar asked. “I do not understand.”

“Child, please, you understand them already,” said Selmak with a chuckle. “Or if not, your host certainly does.”  
_  
~I did always kind of notice that Selmak treated you like a child...well, now both of them have parental feelings for us separately that are now combined. I think we can expect smothering, if we can’t quash it soon.~_

_*In the name of all the worlds that...indeed, quash it we must.*_ Sam wasn’t sure if she agreed more or was amused more by Jolinar’s disgust.

“I am no child of yours, Selmak,” Jolinar warned, one eyebrow raised.

“Of course,” agreed Selmak, with no concession in his tone. “But now, tell me, what of your mission?”

Jolinar sighed. “Samantha knows more, and I do not wish to say it all again.” Sam had a weird thought of growing up with Mark, and how he would push her in front of him to explain to their father why the lamp was smashed and they held grandpa’s canes. As Jolinar ducked behind her consciousness now, Sam felt very strange and, despite the dead seriousness all around them, she and Selmak at least seemed to have found a bubble of peace and amusement. “It was nothing much,” she admitted out loud. “We chose it because I knew the Tollan before, and was close to their ambassador.”

“Ah, the Tollan, say no more,” said Selmak, putting up his hand. “I agree with Jolinar on this point, as unusual as that may seem.”

Sam nodded. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” said Selmak, with a blink. “Your father, as I predicted, is very amenable now that he knows better. I believe we shall do well together.”

Sam sighed, knowing that it wasn’t the answer she wanted, but knowing from Jolinar that Selmak would not speak of it. Just as closely as Jolinar guarded the memories of her past losses, Selmak would put them away to be dealt with at a much further date. It was Sam who needed to move on, for now.

“So, I suppose we should probably leave you to rest some more,” Sam said after a moment, Jolinar giving her the idea.

Selmak nodded. “It is understood. Samantha?”

“Yes?” Sam asked, curious at the sudden change in Selmak’s face.

“Your father spoke to Sha’re while you were absent,” Selmak said. “She is not well; I believe Jacob was of some good to her, but I may guess with some certainty that you would not be.”

It was honest, but it hurt. Sam didn’t try to hide how her eyes dropped and her chest deflated just slightly. She pushed it back up, straightening her back and knowing that she wasn’t going to stop and give up now. And Jolinar, Jolinar didn’t even understand, but Sha’re was so precious to them both.

“Thanks for letting me know,” she said, steady voice. Jolinar had a moment where she wondered if Sam had always been this way, this tied to what “should” be done. And Sam wondered right back, especially because Jolinar didn’t disagree.

Leaving Selmak and her father reclined on their bed, eyes shut in rest and continued blending, Sam and Jolinar walked out of the infirmary. Today was a day of rest before their mission called again. And the mission, the mission. Sam couldn’t see how she was truly dutiful if she could forget it like this, even with Jolinar offering back that these times of personal needs were not as often as she might think.

They walked down the corridors, in no particular direction as they waited for inspiration to strike. Two Tok’ra passed, and Sam started and turned her head.__

_~Whoa...I know Goa’uld.~_

_*So you do,*_ answered Jolinar with a mental smirk.  
_  
~I guess you don’t worry about an easy language for hosts to learn if they pick it up automatically.~ _Daniel would love this, the thought barely registering before repression acted automatically to change the subject. Memories of past experiences, of monuments and Jaffa talking to their gods, all altered with her new clarity towards their content. This was...amazing, and strange, and weird, and...amazing.

Jolinar was excited, and Sam wondered if her natural reaction should be fear, but in the face of all this, she just couldn’t. If she had to describe it, it was as if her mind now existed separate from her body, with her and Jolinar taking turns in wearing it. It had started before, but already she was thinking of herself as a consciousness. _~Wow, this is fast,~ _she thought, a bit of fear at that thought at least.  
_  
*But as a scientist, surely you know that the mind is more than the body.*_

_~That doesn’t mean the body is worth nothing—you know that, though.~   
_  
Jolinar did, but she had lived as a consciousness for millennia, and Sam didn’t want to seem as if she felt herself better than her. And then Jolinar seemed to think that she was better, which Sam didn’t understand, because apart from the cleaner past—except, maybe that was enough for Jolinar. Sam could still roll her eyes at it, and enjoyed Jolinar’s appreciation of the response.

“Samantha?”

Sam looked up from where they were walking, and saw Anise standing there. “Yes?” she answered, blinking.

“You look surprisingly removed from life,” Anise commented. “Has there been trouble?”

Sam’s lip quirked. Jolinar didn’t know how to describe her answer, a little unnerved by Anise’s look of interest in it. “Yes, and no. Jolinar and I were merely conversing.”

“Then if you are not otherwise detained or unwilling, I have something to speak to you about,” said Anise, clasping her hands loosely in front of her.

“Here?” Sam asked, surprised. Suspicion was already flowing from Jolinar, and Sam told her to quit it.

“Actually, if you would accompany to my lab,” Anise said, gesturing with one hand.

“Of course,” said Sam. Curiosity rose to the fore again, even given her experiences with this Tok’ra.

“You left the mission quickly, but Reyfa and I spent more time on the Goa’uld lab that we discovered,” explained Anise as they walked with long steps. “It did not have anything of use to the Tok’ra, and so we were unfortunately forced to abandon it for more urgent missions, but we brought back the downloaded records for our historians. It would not have been priority, except for the first notice of the name of the Tau’ri.”

“Ah,” said Sam. “But you know where that is now, why should you care?”

 “Perhaps we would not have, except for a question of clarification,” Anise said. They entered her lab, and Sam’s eye immediately circled it, fascinated with the order and—handwritten notes? Interesting, and strange, if Jolinar’s reaction was anything to judge by. “Samantha, what do you have in your histories that mentions Egeria?”

Sam drew a blank, only knowing from Jolinar that she was the Tok’ra queen, their foremother. “Nothing that I know, though it’s not really my field.”

“Hmm,” said Anise. “This document mentions her extended stay on your planet, which would be before her execution by Ra, but we would have expected some of the stories written in Ra’s honor to mention his most dangerous enemy, even if as a despicable traitor.”

“Sorry, but that isn’t ringing any bells,” said Sam, and felt Jolinar’s pleasure in finally understanding all this phrases, and wondering if they were worth using herself. “I didn’t know you cared for such things.

“It is not my field either,” said Anise. “However, our historian is very timid and did not wish to approach you.”

Or rather, Jolinar, as Sam and Jolinar immediately recognized and saw in Anise’s face. Jolinar didn’t profess to care that she intimidated some, but Sam wondered just how true that was. “Was there anything else about Earth?” she asked.

“I do not know,” said Anise, shaking her head a little. “I was most interested in the scientific records, but they have proved to contain only ancient documents that are of no use today.”

“Are you sure? I’d think you’d want to look for things that the Goa’uld wouldn’t remember how to defeat.”

Anise gave a tight sigh. “No, Samantha. Do you not think that over the past thousand years I have considered every option?”

“No,” answered Sam, but smiling. “There’s a lot out there.”

Anise looked her in the eye, held it for a moment, then seemed to look through Sam and she and Jolinar suspected Freya’s influence. “There is,” she said finally. “But though you were once a scientist, your ways of science are not our ways.”

“I can see,” said Sam. “Is that all?”

Anise nodded. “The search for records of Egeria has been long, and I am disappointed that your world, as Ra’s center, does not have any. However, it is much more pleasant to know now that there is no point in the search for the Tauri. There is a chance that the addresses among the histories may have further information if there is ever time to explore them.”

Sam took that as thanks, and Jolinar reluctantly followed. She bowed her head, and left the lab._ ~I wonder if she has spoken to Sha’re,~_ thought Sam. _~I can’t imagine Sha’re would let Anise anywhere near her, especially not now, but I wonder if she’s tried.~_

_*I do not think so. Her worry was for the harcesis; now that Shifu is not a danger, the Tok’ra are safe and she is unconcerned.*_

_~Must be nice to have such simple goals.~_

_*Sometimes, yes.*_

ooooooo

Daniel got the note around lunchtime, just before McKay dropped by his office.

“What’s this?” the scientist asked. The two days at home had improved his look, and despite his complaints, he had been keeping up with Brymon and his therapy.

“I don’t know, I just got it,” Daniel said, frowning as he saw the title of the memo. Revised Schedule. Schedules were never revised to add something new, and this was no different.

“We’re being put on stand-by?” McKay asked, taking one of Daniel’s seats despite the dust.

“This doesn’t make sense...” Daniel said, lips pursed as he skimmed through the formal page. “Where’s the explanation? Why would our missions be canceled? Surely that throws off everyone else.”

“I shouldn’t even care, but come on, what’s the point?” agreed McKay. “This is idiotic, putting the foremost team on hold for, what, a month?”

“The only missions left are repeat ones,” said Daniel as he got into the meat of things, mind jumping around looking for possibilities. “Look—the Land of Light, Cimmeria, reassessing Nasya and Abydos later on. You can’t account for back-up missions and digs or finds, but this is sparser than anywhere near necessary.”

“This is not a good sign,” muttered McKay, crumpling the paper and letting it drop into Daniel’s wastebasket.

“What’s new?” Daniel murmured.

“No, this is new,” said McKay. “There’s something between the lines; it doesn’t feel right.”

“You work for a conspiracy; being a theorist doesn’t suit you, Rodney,” said Daniel dryly.

“Well, maybe you see things a little too straight for someone who’s worked in a conspiracy for more than two years,” retorted McKay. “I’m serious, Jackson, this is not good.”

Daniel’s frown deepened. “What do you mean?”

McKay just looked at him, eyes disappointed in Daniel. And in a moment, Daniel was disappointed with himself. They should be reasoning this out. “Okay, then, what reasons could they have to limit our missions, apart from the obvious.”

“What obvious?” McKay answered. “They couldn’t have found missions where the possibility of science being useful was nil?”

“Possibly not,” Daniel defended. “But anyway, there would have been an explanation. This is just military talk, follow orders and don’t ask why. The problem with that is that they only do that when there’s something wrong underneath.”

“You think it has something to do with the whole place almost getting shut down?” McKay asked, worry and thought mingled in his face.

Daniel’s eyebrows lifted for a moment, then fell. “No, that was settled.” They rose again. “But no, wait—”

“What’s going on?” Dixon asked, showing up at the door. “Someone die?”

“Possibly the team,” McKay said darkly, turning his head.

“What?” Dixon asked, crossing his arms.

“We don’t know anything,” Daniel amended. “But this memo that just came down from Hammond? No new missions, and not even regular follow-up ones.”

“Okay, yeah, that sucks,” said Dixon, leaning against the doorframe.

“No reason for it, either,” said McKay. “Doesn’t that sound a bit off?”

“Hmm.” Dixon’s brow narrowed, eyes deepening. “You think Hammond’s trying to protect us from what’s going on upstairs?”

“What is going on upstairs?” Daniel asked, confused.

“The Colonel didn’t talk to you?” Dixon answered.

“No, what?” McKay asked, impatient.

“Well, the whole thing with Carter and the Goa’uld...Hammond wasn’t happy about it, but O’Neill thinks it’s going to be a lot worse farther up. He said they were called back when Jolinar was in our custody, and really put up a fuss when she escaped. Now? Hammond didn’t say anything, but O’Neill thinks he can guess that there’s a lot of blame being thrown at us.”

“Should have guessed,” Daniel sighed. Suddenly it was all making sense, and he felt like an idiot civilian for not being able to figure it out.

“They’re saying it’s our fault,” McKay said, nodding, looking back to Daniel. “I thought they approved the mission.”

“Well, you know, they can always say they were forced into the decision,” Dixon said, shifting his position against the door. “That’s how politics work, especially military politics.”

Daniel rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses, sighing again. “There’s a possibility that we’ll get shut down. Or at least the equivalent—limited personnel, rolls of red tape on each mission.”

“Well, we can’t know that,” Dixon said, a little scoffing. “And we can’t go around expecting it either.”

“No,” agreed Daniel. “But what if it does happen? What if they fire us? I can’t just get another job and leave the planet to any Goa’uld who comes along...I can’t just live and not keep my promise to Sha’re.” His fingertip rested on the memo, tapping each letter of the ominous title.

“Come on, Jackson, what else would you do?” McKay asked, and Daniel could see in his eyes that the Stargate wasn’t personal for him. Not yet.

Daniel looked up to Dixon, frowning and leaning against the door. It was the opposite for him; he had too much at stake here. Even so... “We did it last time, using the Stargate illegally to save Earth,” he admitted. “There’s another gate...if it came down to it, I’d find a way, get off world—”

“And die,” said McKay. “Yeah, great plan, Jackson.”

Daniel’s head cocked to one side, but there was a slight grimace. He had nearly died last time.

“This is not the time to be having this discussion,” Dixon said, warningly.

Daniel glanced to McKay. The scientist shrugged. “True,” said Daniel. He laughed half-heartedly. “We really are getting paranoid, aren’t we?”

“Understandable, maybe, but yeah,” said Dixon, chuckling.

McKay hmphed and rose to leave, Dixon a couple steps ahead. Daniel glanced once more at the memo, and then tossed it in his wastebasket.


	12. Grit

Waking up the next morning went smoothly for Sam and Jolinar, and after a brief moment of fear where Sam felt like she had lost herself, the second day of blending was comfortable for her. Jolinar seemed to be stretching cramped mental muscles, releasing the last bits of tension that had built over months of holding herself back. And Sam, Sam just floated along and tried to let go of her inhibitions.

Taking their seat in the mess hall, they brainstormed on Quetesh and what would come next. Sam found her mind filled with the Tok’ra plan on Goa’uld politics, and even then only the parts that were relevant to Quetesh and Ba’al. Sam countered with what she thought they could accomplish in this part of the mission, and Jolinar reminded her that the next point would be to present a full briefing to the Council.  
_  
~How soon?~_ asked Sam.  
_  
*As soon as we can; Quetesh’s plan seems already in full steam.*_

_~Is there a reason that the Tok’ra did not have a spy among her already?~_

_*Limited resources. She was an underling of Ba’al, and did not seem to be seeking immediate advancement. And maybe she would have remained so, if not for the inexplicable bad fortune that we had a part in that gave her ideas.*  
_  
Jolinar’s eyes glanced up for a second, and then Quetesh was gone from their thoughts. Martouf and Lantash were on their way over, still in Tok’ra mission gear and looking a little worn. One year, Jolinar thought, it has been one year. And Sam felt it with her.

Sam also felt how easy it was to tell who was in control, without needing to wait for words or facial expression, but just by looking in their eyes. The different light that shone there, the sense that felt like naquadah but had nothing to do with it. Lantash was hidden this morning, and Martouf in the open.

His wordless smile indicated that he saw the change immediately, and so Jolinar dismissed saying it outright. Sam was vindicated now, knowing for sure how this relationship relied on things other than words.

“Samantha and I will be leaving again today,” Jolinar said, taking a bite of protein-fortified cereal mush. Her hand and Martouf’s met without thought across the table, again, recalling to Sam’s mind the memory of a first breakfast so long ago that Jolinar was surprised Sam had taken note. But the hands stayed.

“I should not be surprised,” Martouf said, and Jolinar caught the hints of dark circles beneath his grey-blue eyes. “It was the first words on all lips as soon as I returned that Selmak was saved. Were you here at the time?”

Jolinar nodded. “Just in time, yes. And perhaps we would stay, if not for the urgency of this new lead that we received.”

“What is this?” Martouf asked, brow creasing. “Has something happened?”

“Not yet, but Samantha and I were approached with information on a possible change in the Goa’uld hierarchy.”

“With whom?” Martouf asked curiously, taking a long sip of hareshna.

“Quetesh,” Jolinar said without lead-up or follow-through.

Martouf paused. “Hmm.”

Jolinar raised her eybrows slightly and then let them drop, as a light shrug. She was expressing all the meaninglessness she could. Martouf looked down at his food, and then back up to Jolinar. Their gazes held for a second, and then it was dropped.

“We can only hope it is not as misfortunate as it sounds,” Martouf concluded.

A few sentences more related his mission, and while no danger had befallen it had been long and wearisome and neither Martouf nor Lantash wished to speak on it. No more words followed, and breakfast became the focus again. It did not last long, and a simple embrace served as farewell from the weary two, tender as always. And always meant more to Sam now.

Quetesh filtered to the fore of Sam and Jolinar’s mind, and eagerness to get back to their world.  
_  
~We can’t forget the Abydonians,~_ Sam repeated to herself as strategies bounced from her to Jolinar and back again._ ~The temple is only one thing.~_

_*Of course. The official mission being one with our own should make that simpler to remember.*_

_~In theory.~_

_*Which is why I prefer to leave aside theories and wait for the facts.* _She did not recant as Sam could not help but recall times where that had been troublesome, but neither did she hang immovably onto her way. Sam knew that there were some theories worth trying.

Jolinar was surprised as Sam braced herself before they walked through the gate, and then Sam realized that Jolinar knew what was coming next. Dorieth opened up before them, sunny and bright, and the activity did not change as they walked through. Sam saw Jolinar’s observations, added the facts to her own, and relayed back all that her military experience could add. If Jolinar had said anything before about how Sam was useful on this mission, it was immediately made clear to Sam that she was doubly so now. They hadn’t done anything yet, and already the picture was clearer.

With Sam’s communication always at her fingertips, Jolinar put herself back into the role of Coron with determination and skill. All those days of frustration, she had been watching and learning, and now played Sam as Coron almost better than Sam herself. And Sam watched, not worrying about what words she should say, but only how they affected the Jaffa.

And the Jaffa did not blink at the reappearance of their commander. Sam and Jolinar made a quick tour, taking in the lowered flood levels in the fields and how little scaffolding was left on the temple’s peak. There had been much work in the quarry, and per Sam’s orders the road had been left untouched. Sam saw with pleasure that it had been used, and the basic paving was solid so far, unlike the varying muddy patches on the rest of the road.

By the time they circled back to the village, it was looking too good, and Ker’ish, the Jaffa Sam had appointed in charge of the temple slaves, approached them with a dark look.

“My lord, it is good that you have returned so quickly,” he opened, bowing his head in a snappy motion. “Our last delivery of supplies was found lacking, and what is left is the foods for our god Quetesh. I did not dare touch those, but the slaves have been restless with limited rations.”

Sam’s guilt mingled with Jolinar’s moment of not knowing what protocol would apply here, and she paused. “It would please Quetesh more to have slaves that do their work well,” she said finally. “Give them the oldest of our god’s stores, and impress upon them the favor and blessing that is bestowed.”

Ker’ish nodded, no emotion on his face, and turned to carry it out.  
_  
~Remember our plans before all this?~_ Sam reminded.   
_  
*Still too soon,*_ Jolinar said. _*Your greatest idea was this road, and that is still uncompleted.*  
_  
Those slaves that had been at work with the paving itself had been divided into two different categories during Sam and Jolinar’s absence. Some worked on transporting gravel from the quarry to places alongside the road where it would be required in the future. As for the others, Sam had ordered that they scout for appropriate stone for true paving. This day, she recalled most of them back to their duties as the strengthening of the road began again.

However, their commanding Jaffa brought back reports of finds, of some kind of shale or slate that could be adapted to their purpose. It was farther down the mountain range, but Jolinar did not hesitate to order that a small portion of the Jaffa remain to set up a mine. Sam gave her the information she needed to give detailed instructions on what and how it would work, and then they worked to rearrange their smaller workforce to best use.

After nearly two days under tunnels, Jolinar was more glad than Sam would have guessed to be back in the sun. And Sam was as well, feeling that she had some purpose here, that this was her mission.

Before the end of the day, they had almost forgotten their brief stint back into the realm of the Tok’ra home-world. Jolinar felt like she belonged here, and Sam’s love of work had somehow followed her into this line. She was ready to make this turn out right, even if it meant waiting and obsessing over the smallest details. Someday, it would all pay off.

ooooooo

Hammond hung up the phone with a long weary exhalation. He should be satisfied, bearing in mind the drama that had taken place, but found himself only able to be content. And possibly not even that.

He envied his people at times, doing their work with nearly ignorance to all the consequences that would follow. He would encourage it, had they been more worried, because when the world was in danger he didn’t want them thinking about the political repercussions. But when Earth was without immediate threat, Hammond found himself continually dealing with deeds done without thorough thought. In any other occupation, they would be natural and unremarked on. In this one, they involved national security and occasionally the survival of the human race on Earth. Thankfully that latter was more rare.

So now, with the order from the Pentagon for increased security and caution, he should be feeling relieved. His load should be less as the teams had to follow stricter guidelines, something he was grateful for. It would also increase the limitations on civilians on the base, and that would hopefully ease the tension that existed between military and non even after all these years. But it meant that intuition would be quashed, and new ideas and missions would be forced into forms and procedures, meant to provide safety but as always dragging along stifling.

He did not relish spreading the news. There had been less murmuring about his memo yesterday than he had expected, but in hindsight he had worded it just vaguely enough. It wasn’t as if most of the people on this base cared about, let alone understood, exactly how this base ran.

Soon, they would get an all too clear picture. And it was Hammond’s fault. The first year, full of mistakes and accidents, could have been mended with time and another Earth-saving action. This year was not half over, and the political stakes were twice as high as they had been before. In theory, the base and this planet were fine; in political fact, there had been two of the greatest losses since Daniel Jackson and the rest of O’Neill’s team had been left on Abydos so long ago, and that had been acceptable losses.

Looking back, Hammond saw much he could have done differently. Much he would now be forced to do. And if there was ever a time where lenience was needed, he wasn’t sure how much he could give. The Pentagon was putting the law down on their secret Stargate Project. Hammond could only hope that it would succeed in their eyes. He didn’t want to think about what the next step might be if another mistake was made.

ooooooo

The flood waters finally settled down to manageable level, and Sam ordered the slaves back to work on them. With the short food crisis, supplies all around were low and the fields needed to be tended. Jolinar sat back, fascinated as Sam pulled up long-buried memories of agriculture both modern and historical. It wasn’t much, and Sam felt like she was going to forget something important. Jolinar could only provide a check for any basic errors, but the rest would have to be trial and error.

The road was falling into place, and the paving stones started coming in to be placed carefully, and then pack in the stickiest clay around the edges to dry in an approximated cement. Sam winged that one, guessing along with Jolinar that there probably was some kind of cement, but not daring show her ignorance of it. Once that routine was down, however, Sam personally supervised the progress on the fields.

It was swampy, muddy, and downright dangerous to anyone venturing out there. The first thing Sam did, however, was find the maps for the farming, and thankfully they were detailed enough to be of use. Leaving the cultivated areas alone, she started work on the pathways, having the slaves pile up the mud in the center of the path so that the water would run off to the sides. Every so often a slave would slip or get stuck, and end up covered in the brown sticky mud. Sam held back her concern, not letting them go to change because she couldn’t bring up an excuse; it was nice to have Jolinar’s sympathy for both sides, both slaves and Sam as Coron.

Slowly, steadily, the paths rose above the water and left the fields in square lakes. Sam, itching to get into the thick of it herself, instead ordered a survey team to scout where the fields sloped downwards and then dig channels wherever possible to sweep away as much water as possible. And meanwhile, behind them, the road curved downwards ever nearer. The fields were no less a mess at the end of the day, but at least it was an organized mess. And the crops were hardy.

Sam felt a moment’s awkwardness as she went to bed with no weariness in her bones, even after viewing an almost grueling days’ labor. Jolinar was there to ease it, reminding oh so unconsciously that this was all for a greater goal, a goal that would benefit them all. Sam didn’t remember her pre-sleep thoughts the next morning.

“My lord Coron,” came a crisp cry, following the sun immediately over the horizon. “News from the servants of our god!”

Sam met the Jaffa messenger at the door, nodding as he approached, bringing his staff weapon to his chest in salute. “Speak,” Sam said, determined not to squint in the blurry brightness of morning.

“In light of the significance of this world to Quetesh,” the Jaffa said, after taking a pause for breath after his apparent run from the gate, “the new slaves are to be transferred here immediately. You are to see that they are integrated properly, and that work continues at a faster schedule.”

Sam gave a short nod. “Let the messenger of our lord Quetesh be put up for the night, and tomorrow we will carry out her bidding. You may return to your post.”  
_  
*You are catching on quickly,*_ Jolinar commented.  
_  
~This is what we’ve been waiting for, and—we don’t have a plan, do we?~_

_*Our plan is to stop Quetesh once and for all.*_ Jolinar stopped, wavered._ *We shouldn’t do anything right now.*_

_~If it comes down to it, couldn’t we make a distraction on this world and escape with them all?~_

_*Leaving those on other worlds and Quetesh’s ship, and ruining our cover.*_

_~Damn, forgot that part.~  
_  
Jolinar sighed._ *No, we cannot do anything yet. But once the Abydonians arrive, we have something solid to report to the Council. Quetesh is doing something.*  
_  
Sam acknowledged that, and it was but a step to realize that they should not be too urgent on taking further action in this business. There was much else to do. If they could not complete their mission soon, they needed more than ever to have the strongest cover possible. And that meant working for Quetesh’s goals.

oooooo

This day’s briefing felt more hollow. Daniel had been both relieved and disappointed when Hammond’s orders came down the pipe line. They weren’t being disbanded; they weren’t even losing funding, as the government was almost ready to offer more support with more watchdog guidelines in place. But there would be less new missions, more focus on diplomatic security, and a general focus on practicality and home-world security above any scientific discoveries. McKay was disgusted, and thankfully Hammond didn’t seem adamant on being strict on that last point.

But still, everything was new and people were uncomfortable and on edge as they readjusted. Despite no mission for some time now, SG-1 was called in for Hammond to explain the latest situation. Connor and SG-11 had been on PXY-887 for a week, and were now overdue. If that wasn’t bad enough, given the personnel and security problems recently, the gate had opened and an arrow had been shot through instead of SG-11.

Hammond looked deeply worried about what might be the first diplomatic error since the new policies were set into place. There weren’t supposed to be inhabitants on the planet—now it looked like they had offended them.

SG-1, still minus McKay, was being ordered to go through and patch things up.

“You’re sending us, sir?” Jack had asked, eyebrows thoroughly raised.

“The arrow was of Native American design; of all the teams, yours is the only one with a member who might know something of that culture,” Hammond had explained.

Daniel felt hesitant, as this wasn’t his area of expertise. But it wasn’t as if things would be the same on another planet in any case, so he might be able to pull it off.

Before the morning was out, Jack had them all in gear and prepped. The gate was dialed, the MALP contacted, and they were through into possibly hostile territory in a matter of minutes.

The camp was deserted. Teal’c and Dixon scouted the blasting site for the trinium, leaving Jack and Daniel to examine the eery quiet of a by-the-book Air Force campsite.

“Fire’s dead, but the pot boiled dry,” Jack said, pointing his weapon towards it.

“Computer still has power, though,” said Daniel, curiously scanning the most solid clue. He woke the computer, reading the open document on screen. “Currently extracting an average of 47 pounds of trinium ore per day to increase our production fourfold as the engineers have requested... It's a request from Connor. He just stops in mid-sentence.”

“Spooky,” said Jack, gun gripped firmly in his hands. “No one leaves a camp like this, not voluntarily. And with no sign of struggle, we can assume they were lured away.”

“By what?” Daniel asked, standing up and looking around.

Teal’c and Dixon walked up. “There was no substantial evidence at the blast site,” said Teal’c.

“Looks like there were a couple detonators set up, but only one went off,” added Dixon, agreeing.

“Ambush,” said Jack, nodding.

“Not exactly, sir, or not by my mark, unless SG-11 managed to make their footprints disappear,” said Dixon, giving Jack a straight look.

“There were no signs to show that they departed from the mine,” confirmed Teal’c.

“Okay, that’s just—”

“Creepy.” Daniel finished Jack’s sentence, and they shared a look.

“We don’t believe in Goa’uld magic, do we, Daniel?” Jack asked. “Just making sure.”

“I can’t say for sure what does or doesn’t exist in this galaxy...” Daniel qualified, hesitantly.

Teal’c suddenly turned his head.

“What?” Jack asked.

“I believe that I heard something,” Teal’c said, head cocked as he looked around.

“Great, that’s always how it starts,” muttered Jack.

“There!” pointed Teal’c, up towards the hill.

The other three looked. There was nothing.

“Let’s move on, shall we?” said Jack, straightening his shoulders and beckoning them down the path.

Daniel frowned, looking around with suspicion. Strange things had happened before on missions, but this was starting to get frankly surreal.

“Planet of the horror movie, that’s just our luck,” said Dixon under his breath as he fell back on the group to walk by Daniel.

Daniel couldn’t help but give a tight smile. Despite the restrictions on their missions, the government couldn’t control what was out there in the field. They couldn’t guess the wonders in the galaxy, and Daniel hoped they never tried. Because this, worrying and strange as it often could be, was what SG-1 was all about. And he loved it.

ooooooo

Jolinar spoke to Quetesh’s messenger early the next morning, learning that he served under the master of the planet where slaves were rehabilitated in the Goa’uld fashion: forced into submission or death. Sam’s heart started to burn again for Sha’re’s people, but she said nothing, and Jolinar pushed through with outward disinterest.

Before they stepped through the gate, Sam felt a moment of trepidation._ ~What if they recognize us, call us on our actions?~_

_*How could they? We spoke only to Kasuf and Sha’re?*_

_~But we walked through the village; they thought we were a Goa’uld.~_

_*I would be surprised if any of them have the strength left to make that connection,*_ Jolinar answered gravely.

And Sam felt guilty for being relieved at that. Their cover had to stay, and Sam wasn’t used to all this yet.

They only stayed on the planet’s surface for a short time. Jolinar bit back the smell of acrid smoke and dampness, letting it put a fiercer look on her face. The lead Jaffa on this planet was scum, she immediately determined. Tall, thin-faced, eyes large and black beneath the glistening black tattoo on his forehead. He towered over her, but only gave off the feeling of physical presence. Once Jolinar confronted him about the Abydonians, all strength left his voice and Jolinar had the upper hand. Bullies were easily dealt with, at least with one who bore Quetesh’s full approval and priority status.

A few minutes later, and the people started filing towards the gate. Jolinar had brought a few Jaffa to herd them through, and that was all that was needed. Backs bowed, weary-eyed, Sam was only grateful that she saw no injuries among them. They were subservient, but they had given up, not broken.

Not one showed any recognition, even when Jolinar shouted in Sam’s voice that the pace should quicken. They looked just like any other group of slaves on Dorieth, but Sam and Jolinar alike knew that these people had been so much more not so long ago.  
_  
~Couldn’t we just turn around, dial the gate to Abydos, and send them through again?~_

_*No, we could not.*  
_  
Sam hated the feeling of knowing exactly why, from a logical point of view, that was true.

Before she had really come to grips with it, they were back on Dorieth. The people had been hastily rearranging quarters during her departure in preparation for the influx of new people. Now they were here, and everything looked doubly crowded. Sam thought once again of how impractical this world was as a home base, and though Jolinar had not immediately noticed it, she quickly agreed on the point.  
_  
*I believe before this is through, we will know all too well how every portion of Quetesh’s rule fits together.*  
_  
As Jolinar watched the Abydonians mingled with the rest, Sam started to wonder. This had been an ambitious mission from the start, prompted by guilt and not by logic. And yet, the more things went, the more the outcome became clear; either Quetesh would fall once and for all, or Sam and Jolinar would die trying. It wasn’t spelled out anywhere, but Sam just felt it, looking at the situation. They had gone so deep, risked so much, spread so far—inadvertently, it was all or nothing.

Jolinar heard, and had nothing to object with. They might look back on this and think it a mistake, but for now, she was certain of success. Sam smiled to herself; if Jolinar wanted to trust luck now, after all the times it had screwed them, that was her prerogative. Jolinar couldn’t help but retort that at least believing in luck was a rationale...Sam’s optimism often had no cause.  
_  
~I used to have optimism, didn’t I?~_

_*You still do. We would have been lost already without it.*  
_  
Posing as a Jaffa in the service of one of the more twisted Goa’ulds, lying to her only allies, with a personal life that was only possibly getting better...and she could still smile. Yes, comparatively, Sam still had her optimism; she hadn’t given up yet.

It just worried her that a normal person might have. She didn’t want to have a life like that—and yet, she still couldn’t put a finger on what she did want. Thankfully, now was not the time. Now was the time to put the bigger plan into motion.


	13. Rendezvous

Daniel woke up groggy—nothing new—but with the sun shining through a patterned grate on the wall. Hadn’t he...hadn’t they... He put a finger up to his neck, feeling for a mark that he remembered there. Yes, that part wasn’t a dream. He had been darted.

Dixon, lying on the bench next to Daniel, woke with a jerk and a snort. “Gyah!”

Daniel shook his head slowly, trying to recall everything. They were on the planet, looking for SG-11. They had been weirded out. And then, they had been darted. It didn’t bother him as much as it should have, he supposed. At least they hadn’t been spirited away; darts were historical and realistic, and Daniel felt at ease with them.

“I’m not sure if I should congratulate the Devil for his taste in creating personal hells, or just assume that I’m not dead,” came Jack’s voice across the room.

Daniel looked over.

“Sorry, sir, you aren’t retired yet,” said Dixon, rubbing vigorously at the back of his neck. “Looks like we were knocked out and put in prison.”

Daniel looked around, noticing the intricate designs and styling of the room they were in. “Um, this doesn’t look like a typical prison.” The door was open, despite the guard standing by. “These are definitely Salish designs, just like the totem we were looking at before they got us.”

“Yeah, that was useful information right now,” said Jack dryly. “Teal’c?”

“I have been watching their activity for some time,” said the Jaffa, standing by one of the grates. “They do not appear to be interested in our presence. I have not seen anything proving that SG-11 are here, but it is a valid conclusion to come to.”

“Odd,” said Dixon. “Should we ask to speak to their leader?”

Jack shrugged. He rubbed at his eyes, looking as if he, like Daniel, was trying to shake off the drug.

Daniel looked up as three men came into the room, in the closest thing to traditional Salish garb that Daniel had seen. And they weren’t carrying weapons.

“Hello,” said Dixon with a speak-of-the-devil tone. “Colonel?”

“I am Tonane,” said the man in front, in a thankfully very human voice. He was a solid figure, but his face gave Daniel a sense of comfort, not intimidation. There was almost an open smile on his face.

“Colonel Jack O’Neill,” said Jack, standing up and looking just slightly surprised.

“Long name,” said Tonane with a blink.

“Jack?” said Jack, an eyebrow slowly rising.

“Jack,” agreed Tonane, with a nod.

“I’m Daniel Jackson,” said Daniel, speaking up. “This is Dave Dixon and Teal’c.”

“You are Jack’s friends, Dan?” Tonane asked curiously.

“Daniel’s fine,” said Daniel, trying not to cringe in front of the diplomatic leader of these people. “But yes, we’re explorers.”

“The spirits say that there is a demon in Teal’c,” said Tonane, turning his head to where Teal’c stood.

“It will cause you no harm. I give you my word.” Teal’c bowed his head towards Tonane.

“I would be glad to accept your word, but how do I know what it is worth when we have only just met?” asked Tonane. There was a strange honesty in his words, and a to-the-point manner that didn’t feel blunt.

Daniel looked to Jack, and just as he guessed, Tonane seemed to have impressed him. “None of us mean you any harm, Tonane,” Jack said gravely.

“Then why did you bring weapons?” Tonane asked.

“Just in case we needed them; we thought our friends had been taken,” said Jack, settling into a less tense stance in front of Tonane.

“They have, but you do not need weapons to find them,” said Tonane. “They are with the spirits.”

“They’re dead?” asked Dixon, worried.

“No,” said Tonane, with a smile, as if explaining to children. “They are with the spirits.”

Jack paused, and Daniel smiled to himself. This was where he came in. “Which spirits, Tonane? May we speak to them?”

“Probably Xels, or maybe Takaya,” said Tonane with a shrug. “If you wish, I can speak to them for you.”

“Thank you, Tonane,” said Daniel, as Jack wasn’t sure how to interpret the situation.

“Then we aren’t prisoners?” asked Dixon, arms loosely crossed over his chest.

“No, you’re free to go,” said Tonane simply.

“Can we have our weapons back...just in case?” Jack asked.

Tonane paused for a second, then shrugged. “Sure.”

As Tonane and his companions walked out of the tent, SG-1 followed, sharing pointed looks with each other. Jack could deal with Tonane...but it would probably have to be Daniel who dealt with the spirits. And given the weirdness they’d already encountered on this planet, Daniel doubted that any of them were sure of what was happening. Not yet. Even Tonane’s ease hadn’t fully convinced him, not yet.

ooooooo

As the people of Dorieth worked to make their world perfect for Quetesh, Sam found herself drawn to the temple in particular. Jolinar’s technological knowledge was limited, and with Sam’s equally limited understanding of Goa’uld technology in particular, deciphering the true purpose of the massive building was a Herculean task.

All the pieces were created offworld and brought through the gate to be assembled on site. None of the workers had complete blueprints. Once a section was completed, the plans were destroyed and the section was never touched again. It had been many months since the foundation had been laid, and Sam could not have asked the slaves about it, even if they were the same ones after all the deaths and transfers. Instead, she had only her own and Jolinar’s intuition.

Now with the Abydonians, Sam was able to put night shifts into place. Each section was given more specific responsibility, and the living quarters were entirely reshuffled, but by now these people were used to how Coron led them. It was frightening how easily they submitted to authority without any true power to back it. Not just the slaves; the Jaffa. Looking back, Jolinar and Sam both realized that their murder of Toc’no was not just out of the ordinary, it was almost unheard of. And no wonder that Quetesh had taken note.  
_  
~I’m surprised she didn’t suspect that we might turn on her.~_

_*I believe that in her vain mind, our reason did not sound like an excuse. And if she believes we command such loyalty for her alone...*  
_  
Even with the almost unconditional support of the inhabitants of Dorieth, Sam held herself back from a true investigation of the situation. Not only was there no time; but Jolinar was sure that they needed to report to the Council tomorrow, and she didn’t want to overburden the briefing with anything they discovered. Sam didn’t think they’d find anything conclusive, but Jolinar wasn’t going to push that luck.

So as the day faded, Sam limited herself to cursory examinations. During a quiet time, she descended to the deepest point accessible in the temple, looking around for anything interesting. There were large portions of the ‘basement’ entirely impenetrable, but the locked passageways suggested something. The walls, also, were neither stone nor wood nor any metal Sam could immediately place. She had no further time, and ascended again to check on proceedings.

Before the day was out, the new 24 hour schedules were set up and explained, and for the first time since Quetesh’s departure, the planet looked fully functional. Jolinar caught on quickly, and added the little touches to the plan to make it feel more like business as usual for the Goa’uld. Sam’s Earth-born ideas were universal on some levels, but Sam was fascinated to see the small flashes of memory as Jolinar adapted them here and there.

Jolinar had always had Jaffa under her command, and slaves under them, and her role had revolved around using their unique skills to her benefit. She knew just how close an unconditional leader could get, and just how far the boundaries could be pushed before the people could no longer recognize their customs and traditions. Sam felt her admiration for Sam’s ability to come up with the plan, but Sam had to answer with respect for the way that Jolinar acted on the plans.

Now more than ever she felt how Jolinar intuited so much from everything around her, and yet it came to her active thoughts in logical, not emotional, order. Before they had blended, Sam hadn’t understood just how natural it was for Jolinar to feel things instinctively, and yet relay some of them as if heart had nothing to do with it. And then again, just to break the pattern that Sam tried to see, she would be hopelessly lost in the depth of emotion, striking out or reaching out without knowing why.

As of now, however, the stream of information was steady and rational. They had less than a day before they would attempt to set the next part of the plan into motion. And it was not going to be easy.

ooooooo

Jack was thoroughly creeped even after they stepped through the gate and back into the SGC. Just as Daniel was starting to get a hang of this culture, SG-11 walked out of the mist at the command of the spirits Tonane thought he heard. And Daniel had nothing to say. Whether it was advanced technology, or some power beyond their previous understanding, Jack didn’t seem to care. It was frightening.

The elders of the village were less so, despite their firm denial of the request to mine trinium. Jack, still a little shaken by what else had happened, didn’t protest. It wasn’t anything to him, in the end. Daniel, though, was curious as to what Hammond would think of it all.

SG-1 attended their briefing late, heard SG-11’s full story, and then waited for Hammond’s final judgment and further orders.

The general frowned at the table, hands resting in front of him as he appeared lost in thought for the moment. “Gentlemen,” he finally said. “I’m not too proud to admit that there is a serious problem with this case.”

Daniel nodded, wondering which one he was referring to.

“As you know,” Hammond continued, looking at McKay and SG-11’s science officer Lt. Thaid, “it is of grave importance to the NID that we obtain this trinium. However, they are hampered by their very recent policies regarding offworld cultures. Even they can’t break their own rules so quickly after they’ve been put into place.”

“Why would any rule be broken?” Daniel asked, frowning.

“I believe that they would have supported mining the trinium after the Salish people moved on from their current location,” said Hammond gravely.

Captain Connor and Lt. Thaid glanced to each other, brows furrowing. Dixon adjusted his seat a little, a little uncomfortable, and Jack didn’t look up from his steepled fingers.

“Isn’t that, I don’t know, stealing?” McKay asked. He’d been surprisingly silent, almost like a normal person who didn’t understand the situation under discussion.

“You know government types,” said Dixon with resignation. “If they didn’t know, it wouldn’t hurt them, that’d be their argument.”

“I don’t speculate on such matters,” said Hammond pointedly. “The fact is, at this moment, we are to go along with whatever the Salish are willing to give us. But we are not to promise any aid, only payment for the trinium. The NID want trinium, but they do not want another entangling alliance.”

“Then I assume we’re no longer needed?” Jack asked, looking up.

“Correct,” said Hammond, nodding. “It seems as if this Tonane understood your explanation. SG-11 can resume from here.”

“Sir, I’d be interested in joining SG-11 for their return mission,” said Daniel, half raising his hand.

Connor looked down to him, an eyebrow raised.

“Is there a problem, Dr. Jackson?” Hammond asked.

“I have a feeling that there was more than met the eye there,” said Daniel. “And I’d like to know what it is. Maybe Thaid can help me if there’s a technology side, but I’d at least like to learn more of Tonane’s people’s history.”

“Unless that’s a problem with Captain Connor,” Hammond said, looking to SG-11’s leader.

“Not at all, sir,” Connor said, after Thaid gave him a brief nod.

“Then you are cleared to go with them. You will leave tomorrow morning at 0900.” Hammond closed the file, and rose to signify the end of the briefing.

Thaid, an African-American just younger than Daniel, approached him as they left the table. “What exactly are you going to do, Dr. Jackson?” he asked curiously.

“Well, despite the NID’s demand for practicality, there’s a lot we can learn from understanding these alien cultures. Aren’t you at all curious about how you just appeared, but couldn’t remember what happened?” Daniel wasn’t too surprised, though. He’d had plenty of experience with automatic repression of some of the odd things that happened around here.

Thaid shrugged slightly. “Maybe we were just drugged. Maybe it’s some kind of technology left behind. Why do we need to meddle with it?”

“Oh, I don’t intend to meddle with it,” answered Daniel. “I just want to know what it is, if it is anything. It’s a new culture, and might explain some of the history of this galaxy; I don’t go into the field seeing each society as a possible mine of devices.”

Thaid nodded, not saying anything else, and turned to leave down the hall. Daniel wondered if he was getting better at explaining himself to scientists, or if they had just learned to drop issues when it came to him.

ooooooo

When Jolinar awoke the next morning, work had not only started, it had never stopped. Sam’s plan had worked so far, and was especially convenient because of the rest needs of the Jaffa, where their ability to kel’no’reem at any time made this schedule less off-putting to them than to diurnal humans. And at the same time, Jolinar and Sam realized the lesser success of their plan. With no time where work was not being done, shifts flowed from one to the next without pause for not knowing what they would do next. Sam set out the longterm goals, and each shift merely continued the work where the previous shift had stopped, continuing on towards a constant goal.

So it was that Jolinar felt entirely comfortable in leaving yet again. Excuse did not matter, only whether everything would be productive. That being the case, only a few hours later, they took their leave once again of Dorieth. Coron had yet another mission for the great god Quetesh.

The Tok’ra Council was ready for them almost as soon as they came into the complex, after sending a message from the gate that their lead had been most useful. They had been gone four days, but it felt both longer and shorter to Sam, even though Jolinar had no such distorted view of their time.

“Before this briefing begins, might we know what lead you followed on this mission?” Ren’al opened with, as they all took their place in the room that served as a Council chamber today.

Sam was glad that Jolinar had an answer ready. “As you will understand when we explain our findings, it seems apparent now that one of the Tollan knew me from before.” And Sam felt the emphasis on the final word just as much as the Council, who looked to each other and then nodded.

“Then let us hear what we need to understand the beginning of this situation,” said Garshaw, once again at the center of this group.

Jolinar launched straight in, no hesitation or reservation that might alert them to the deft handling of the truth. She had no issue with lying outright, bold faced, if need be, but need right now was to be as open as possible. The hidden truth that she and Sam had been on this mission, and another one that had been forbidden, for almost a month was carefully skipped over. The gravity of the situation, and the details that Jolinar could provide, held the Council’s attention much more firmly.

“This is beyond what we expected,” said Thoran. “I cannot believe that we let this potential for disaster go by unnoticed.”

“It seems that luck has been kind to us,” Garshaw agreed, nodding. “In a strange manner, but kind nonetheless.”

“It further blessed our mission,” Jolinar continued. “In a matter of days, I believe that I had a fair picture of the situation.”

Garshaw nodded, and Jolinar laid out the exact evidence she possessed. This time, though, she claimed to have eavesdropped on these conversations. The more they went over the facts, saying them aloud to the Council, the more Sam and Jolinar realized just how clear it was. Quetesh was planning to overthrow Ba’al. She had made strikes already, and was using Dorieth as the staging-ground for something drastic.

“Is this even possible, given her resources?” Thoran asked. “We have left Quetesh in peace for this long, after your last reports claimed that she could not begin to rise to power again for another century. And there have been no hints otherwise since then.”

Sam was surprised, as Jolinar immediately remembered of what Thoran spoke. She didn’t share the whole picture, but Sam saw Quetesh, in another host, as Jolinar saw her before the mission ended. And Jolinar winced to remember what had happened, no matter how useful the report had been; Sam didn’t want to look further, and yet, she did.

“I am certain that that has been her strategy,” said Jolinar, as firm as ever. “From the reports, she has been slipping worlds into her control for some time, looking for ones that Ba’al does not defend. But to keep them safe from him, she must keep her actions secret from all, no matter how bold her plan.”

“You have not answered the question, though,” commented Ren’al.

Jolinar paused for a breath, momentarily irritated with herself for straying. Sam sent an apologetic feeling, thinking that it was probably her influence affecting Jolinar here. “Yes, I do believe her resources adequate. Aside from the new worlds that she has obtained, if we take her at her word, her plan revolves around something other than brute force. That was never her way, as you know. And from what I saw and heard on Dorieth, there is a further strategy that is not widely known, if at all. It is this that we must fear, not outward signs of her strength.”

“That is understood,” said Garshaw with a short nod. “What are the signs that you noted that may indicate to this plan?”

Jolinar hadn’t fully prepared her answer to this, but it was not difficult to come up with it on the spot, especially with Sam’s ready input. “She has been mustering troops and slaves from worlds stolen out from under Ba’al’s nose, and has been using them primarily to enhance a structure on Dorieth. Outwardly it looks like a temple, but her attitude towards it contains too much urgency, and so we suspect that it is important to her plan. Given that it is Dorieth where she expects the final showdown to take place, I believe that this building is of extreme importance to her plan. Which is why she would not let anyone know of its true purpose.”

“But to attack Ba’al, she cannot use a defensive device, as this structure must certainly be,” spoke up Delek. “What else does her plan entail?”

“I have no information regarding that,” said Jolinar. “But if she has not sent more reinforcements to the increasing number of slaves on Dorieth, then they must be of use somewhere. It is likely that she has been able to hide armies or ships somewhere; at least, we cannot discount the possibility.”

“The latter point, yes,” said Thoran, looking to Garshaw. “That is your final word on this supposition?”

“That is all I know of Quetesh’s plan,” Jolinar confirmed, nodding once.

The Council turned to each other, not quite ignoring Jolinar but also paying her no more than cursory attention.

“We have spent too much time on what the plan might be,” opened Ren’al. “That Quetesh has a plan in existence that might cripple Ba’al is of greater importance, and should be given full consideration.”

“Agreed,” said Thoran. “We have not gone this far only to let a slip of our intelligence lead to the collapse of the entire Goa’uld structure, as may be likely.”

“Do not forget the last time we dealt with Quetesh,” said Delek, glancing briefly to Jolinar. “It was a hard won success; we must carefully consider this situation, for the safety of the Tok’ra as well as our own plan.”

“Then we do not disagree on the importance of this information,” said Garshaw once the others had said their pieces. “I shall send word to all members of this Council:  Per’sus, Malek, Selmak, Sina, Thoth, Freri. All should be present, if this changes our very goals in this galaxy.”

Jolinar felt relief, and it spread through Sam who had had no expectations.__

_*I feared they would not approach it with such severity. I am pleased to be wrong.*_

Garshaw turned back to Sam and Jolinar. “Jolinar, Samantha,” she said, nodding twice. “It seems that luck served you as well as your past this time, and as the one who knows the most of the situation, your information will be required again. There will be a full assembly tomorrow, and you must attend. We thank you for your services to the Tok’ra, in this case as in the past. Please, take your rest soon, and return prepared tomorrow.”

Sam felt Jolinar’s sense of pride at the gratitude, even as it only barely surfaced through the gravity and worry of her emotions. “As you wish,” Jolinar said, bowing before rising to depart.  
_  
~I did not realize that Selmak was on the Council,~_ Sam said, remembering now that she hadn’t seen her father since right after his blending. _~This should be interesting for them both, right? An important mission right after blending.~_

_*It is the same for you,* _Jolinar pointed out.

Sam paused. Jolinar wasn’t all wrong. Sam was just strangely at ease with the sense of deepest connection between her and Jolinar. It hadn’t been there always, but looking back Sam wondered if she half expected it to be. And maybe her relief every time that it wasn’t had been mingled with a lot more surprise than she had originally thought. How else could she have grown so used to feeling at one with her symbiote in a matter of days?

Jolinar didn’t hide that her own experiences with new hosts said that the level of intimacy always bred trust and comfort quickly. Sam’s months-long resistance, though started from an anomaly, had truly been one-of-a-kind. Then again, given how things had turned out, perhaps it had not been as strange as Jolinar had seen it previously. And Jolinar’s pleasure at this conclusion matched Sam’s, or influenced it perhaps, as neither of them liked being strange. Independent, yes, but not strange.

As they left the Council chamber to refresh themselves and check in with loved ones, Jolinar’s mind wound down as she ran over the list of names that Garshaw had mentioned. Sam saw their faces flick by in Jolinar’s mind, none as old as she expected from thousands-year-old symbiotes, but one in particular striking her as looking no older than Sam herself.  
_  
*Malek, leader of the Risa base,* _Jolinar said, bringing up her last memory of him. _*But do not forget, that I am a thousand-year-old symbiote and do not look it. Malek is older than I, and one of my closest allies—friends—among my people.*  
_  
Sam was instantly curious, and Jolinar’s memory of Malek was too brief and nondescript to be of any use. But it reminded her of how things had improved, that Jolinar was beginning to think of people beyond the core that she needed to survive. It wouldn’t be a long reunion, and there was much beyond personal matters that would need attention, but Sam was looking forward to seeing Jolinar in the center of Tok’ra matters. Closer to these people that she claimed as her own, the only family she really had.

And through Sam’s thoughts, Jolinar quietly agreed. Through all the trouble, she could reluctantly admit that she had been missing this part of life. More drastic than typical, but the usual nevertheless. This, more than anything, was the outward expression of who the Tok’ra were. Jolinar was eager to take part in it, eager to let Sam experience it, and Sam’s curiosity rose to the challenge.

In the end, though, they passed by the infirmary to Selmak’s chambers, and realized that they no longer had need to visit it. It was a bittersweet realization as they knew that they should have a reason still. But Sha’re was somewhere else on this base, and they could do no more than hope that she and Shifu were well. All the intrigue that the Tok’ra could offer did not erase the personal conflict that still waited beneath it, brewing until an undetermined time.


	14. Negotiations

Daniel took a deep breath of the fresh air on PXY-887, coming through the gate just behind SG-11. It would be a fair walk to the village, but it was morning and he had slept well the night before.

“Dr. Jackson, I hope you’re not urgent about seeing Tonane again,” said Connor, turning around as his weapon rested loosely in his grasp.

Daniel blinked. “No, not necessarily. Why?”

“I know the general just wants us to overlook the capture, but surely you understand that we’d like to take a little closer look at that forest where we just showed up,” said Connor. His face didn’t look out of the ordinary, just serious and a little curious. “Briggs and Satchel will take the rear, and if you’d like to accompany Thaid, maybe we can figure this out before we have to get to business.”

Daniel answered with a nod. Not exactly what he’d been expecting, but a plan he didn’t have to think too much on to support.

The marched out, the sound of dry grass and the shifting of canvas BDUs the only sounds for a while. Like before, there were no animals around the gate, but other than that, it seemed as normal as they remembered. They walked past the blasting site to circle around the village, and Daniel was surprised to see how well Connor remembered the direction.

Thaid apparently had no interest in checking the blasting site where they had vanished, but then again, SG-1 had already looked around and found nothing. Daniel supposed that in the end it wasn’t as mysterious. The brush grew thicker, but only a few wildlife sounds accompanied the change, even once they reached the edge of the forest itself.

Daniel had no weapon ready, but he did find it noteworthy that neither did SG-11. They weren’t relaxed, certainly, but he didn’t see the usual tenseness that military men often had even when they weren’t dealing with apparent magical technology. He had to assume that they were growing much more used to the ways of the galaxy than SG-1, for instance. Then again, SG-1’s first reaction to anything strange was to assume technology, so was the superstition truly any less? So far they’d been proven right, but there was always a chance of error, and Daniel thought the chance much less remote than most of his companions did.

The forest of Xels and Takaya smelled warm and pungent, nothing out of the ordinary in it. SG-11 and Daniel quietly wound their way through it, keeping eyes open for anything that would explain how they had ended up here. Daniel paid close attention to the trees, not just because of the last real SG-1 mission, but because it seemed the only thing that might hide technology. He remembered Cimmeria and the entrance to the Hall of Thor’s Might. There were no pillars of stone, or even large rocks, but the trees were large at some points.

Daniel didn’t know where exactly they were in relation to where they had come to find SG-11, but for the moment it didn’t matter. He looked at the trees, wondering for a moment, and stopped to pull a book from his pack. They looked normal from the outside, but there was an odd kind of scent in the air that he couldn’t place. Janet’s antihistamine potion had been working for some time, and given the usual forests they discovered, he’d grown used to certain smells. Just for thoroughness, he wanted to look this one up.

He flipped through the book, frowning as he looked for the picture that matched the grey-orange lichen on the bark. None of the rest of the team seemed to care or comment, as he heard nothing, but they had been pretty quiet during the whole trek anyway.

“Lieutenant,” he called out for Thaid, wondering what the scientist’s specialty was and if lichen might have something to do with it. There wasn’t an answer, and Daniel heard some slight noises—what sounded like the flap of wings, and the soft fall of the feet of some small creature. “Hey,” he called again, turning his head.

There was nothing there. In all meanings, there was nothing. Neither the animals he might have heard, nor SG-11. The forest around him was empty, as if he had imagined that SG-11 had ever been there. Daniel felt his hand twitch slightly towards his sidearm, and his brow furrowed. This was worryingly like deja vu.

ooooooo  
_  
~I’m not sure I understand,~_ said Sam as Jolinar prepared them for the great Council meeting. _~Garshaw could have formed an alliance on her own, but this little issue requires unanimous presence?~_

_*An alliance does not threaten our mission, and therefore Garshaw may use her authority without check. However current things go down, a shift in the entire Goa’uld structure is probable, and that is of grave importance to every leader among us.*  
_  
Sam was finding that her blending with Jolinar was not as flawless as it seemed like it should be. Just as she could not access her own memories to determine why she reacted in certain ways, being in tune with Jolinar’s thoughts and emotions did not explain much at all about the Tok’ra world that was still somewhat new to Sam. She had been surprised when they heard the news that the Council had grown a new crystal chamber for the purpose of this briefing. She was for a moment put off when they descended to breakfast and found little buzz, even with Tok’ra leaders arriving.

Selmak and Jacob came down to the mess hall that morning, taking a seat near Sam and Jolinar but not speaking as they did so. It seemed to be the first time since blending, and some of the other Tok’ra came up to quietly pay their respects. Sam wondered if they recognized the look on Selmak’s face that clearly spoke of weariness with the reverence given to him, and Jolinar wondered if Jacob’s personality would be at all useful in helping Selmak dissuade it.

Before any of them spoke, Martouf and Lantash joined them, taking the seat opposite Sam and Jolinar. As Jolinar quietly glowed with her usual gladness at their presence, Sam suddenly wondered what her father now knew about all of them. Jolinar brushed it off, reminding her of Selmak, one who had known Jolinar ever since she first came to the Tok’ra. It didn’t quite work, and so she tried to ease Sam’s awkwardness by changing the subject, but Sam was reminded of just how touchy this whole situation was.

It was Martouf and Lantash who broke the silence and the awkwardness in Sam’s mind alike. “It is good to see you here, Selmak,” Martouf said.

“It is not good to be here, not for this,” said Selmak. “Jolinar once attested to being cursed with bad timing...I do not hesitate to call her correct in this case.”

Jolinar hmmed to herself, unfortunately in agreement. And yet, for their side mission, it might have been perfect timing.

“Apart from the obvious situation, do you believe that the issue of limited availability will arise?” Martouf asked, glancing from Jolinar to Selmak. He would not be present at the briefing.

“You mean the fact that we should have been warned by an operative,” Jolinar answered.

“That is no new question,” Selmak reminded Martouf. “With this issue having plagued us from the beginning, this is for damage control alone; we have no new resources to design a new strategy for.”

“We almost lost both you and Jolinar recently,” Lantash surfaced to say. “It appears that we have not been using our current resources well. And yes, I know that some of it cannot be helped, but I am not content nevertheless.”

Selmak nodded slightly, with a hint of wry in his tone. “I would not have expected you to be content.”

“There is, and has always been, only one solution,” Jolinar added, quietly as she stirred her food. “But it involves consolidating our purposes.”

“You mean cutting off our alliances and efforts to aid trading partners, I assume,” Lantash clarified, but Sam and Jolinar could both see from his look that it was only a rhetoric question.

“We must always make that decision—how much can we afford to give and possibly damage our mission, and how much we cannot afford to lose by isolating ourselves.” Jolinar spoke with words that came easily on this subject, and the quiet determination Sam felt from her triggered Sam’s own thoughts. She couldn’t hide that she had always supported a more generous policy; but she did not resent Jolinar’s comment on that, that she had always worked for a leadership who could afford to be beneficial. And in the end, Jolinar was not ready for the Tok’ra to do all that she said, even if they would have considered it.

By the time they had run through all these thoughts, several minutes had passed without words at the table. Both of the other two pair were eating quietly, heads downward as if in private thought. Sam remembered once wondering why the Tok’ra did not speak to each other often, and now more than ever realized that one would not be so quick to seek other companions when at least one was always present. Jolinar then had a moment of remembrance herself, and let Sam have a glimpse of old feelings, what it was like when despite the two minds she had felt alone in the world. Sam didn’t have anything to say, and Jolinar indicated by the way she moved on that she hadn’t expected words in response.

Glancing across the mess hall, Jolinar caught sight of three new figures entering. Sam wasn’t familiar with everyone on this base—not even Jolinar was—but these uniforms were different, those of the Risa system as Jolinar’s memory told Sam. And the figure in the lead was the Malek that Jolinar had spoken of.

“Old friends have arrived,” she murmured aloud as she excused herself from the table. Crossing the hall with easy stride, Sam caught sight of Malek in both real time and in a memory that Jolinar recalled at that moment. Sam couldn’t help but be surprised at Malek’s host, with a face that was almost the picture of a romance hero, complete with tousled dark hair. She quickly quelched it as Jolinar seemed a bit offended at such a comparison. And as she shared the memory with Sam, Sam realized why.

It was only brief flashes in the short steps it took to make it across the room, but Sam saw ships and Jaffa and tunnels on a planet that was not like this one. And Jolinar, in the ship, swooping down from the skies to take the shot that would have destroyed the base. She barely made it unscathed from the ship to grasp the hand of Malek, grateful for reinforcements and surprised at Jolinar’s reckless act. With the gate destroyed in the attack, they had had a week of being on the run from remaining Jaffa on the planet, gathering supplies and people and waiting for the rescue. Malek was hard-willed but fair, and kept strict protocol even among the chaos. But he had not taken Jolinar under his wing, but instead gave her and Rosha free reign to plant traps, play guerilla warrior, not just run and live to fight another day. Malek respected that, and Jolinar respected him for it, as one of the few Tok’ra who would.

“Malek,” Jolinar spoke, as the memory disappeared and was replaced by the picture of Malek today, no different after those decades.

His face, twisted in a slight worried frown, smoothed as he saw them. “Jolinar?” he asked, though seemingly sure.

“Indeed,” she answered, a slight smile finding its way on her face.

He smiled back, stepping forward to clasp her in a firm embrace. “It has been some time, comrade,” he said, with a firm clap on her back as they separated. “I heard of what happened, but urgent events trailed me ever since. But I was glad to hear of your safety.”

“This is Samantha,” Jolinar said, introducing her in Tok’ra fashion. Sam had no need to come forward to say anything.

“So I heard,” said Malek, with a nod of greeting. “Leyon greets both of you as well, and like myself was not surprised to hear that your new host is not of the usual kind.”

Sam balked for a moment, wondering if he was making a jab at Jolinar’s error in meeting with Sam. But Jolinar’s emotions were smooth, and she let her response inform both Sam and Malek. “The Tauri are not usual in any sense,” she said. “Our contact has been strained, but if Selmak’s experience with Jacob is any further evidence, it has not been failure.”

“You and Selmak, of course,” answered Malek, with a friendly half-snort. “It should never surprise me when we meet because of your actions.”

“And yet it has not been reversed, which is surprising to me,” Jolinar answered. “I have heard nothing of Risa for many seasons, which seems to belie all that I have seen of you and it.”

“We are careful to keep from anything that might prove infamous,” said Malek, with a slight ease in his manner that transcended the ordered words. “And being separate from the High Council, there is a solidity that aids our conservatism.”

Jolinar nodded. “Are you ready to meet with the Council?”

“Yes, I believe I have heard all that I need for the initiation,” Malek answered. “Until then, I had hoped to speak with Selmak on a matter of trivial importance.”

“He is this way,” Jolinar said, and they walked over to the table.

Sam had one of her few moments where Jolinar’s emotions made perfect sense, as the worries about the Council faded and left only interest in the people they cared about. Already, she was feeling that Malek was a war-brother to Jolinar, someone who did not just see her as another member of the same movement, but who could appreciate and be at ease with Jolinar the individual. Sam didn’t need to know much else; she felt that she would have the same appreciation for Malek by the time he returned to his role in the Risa system.

ooooooo

Daniel hesitated before making a move. The entire team had just disappeared, the same way they had once reappeared only the day before. He didn’t want to jump to conclusion and put his hand to his zat, but he also knew that he didn’t have back up if he didn’t stay on top of things.

“Captain Connor?” he called out. “Lieutenant Thaid? Lieutenant Satchel? Sergeant Briggs?” Nothing. “Okay, so we weren’t off about the creepy,” he said quietly to himself, taking a deep breath and looking around. Occam’s Razor, that McKay was so fond of, said that he should go to Tonane and explain everything, because they were probably “with the spirits” once again. Then again, he wasn’t too sure that he knew how to get to Tonane.

A large crow flapped in front of him, landing in a tree some feet off. Daniel eyed it for a second, then turned to attempt to retrace his steps. He wasn’t really scared, not yet; his heart was beating faster, but the way Thor had once inspired that emotion. Every time he thought the galaxy was becoming simple, it shook him like a rag doll.

He walked a few steps, then stopped. Ahead, on the path that he thought they had made, sat a big grey wolf. He made the connection to the crow in a second, and took another deep breath. Either this was coincidence, in which case he might be in danger from wolf attack, or the spirits had decided to pay him a visit after stealing SG-11.

“Takaya?” he asked, feeling more than a little silly. The wolf sat on her haunches, but didn’t move. Her eyes watched Daniel carefully.

He turned back, and saw the crow fly over to a closer tree. “Right, I don’t think this is coincidence,” he said out loud. “My name is Daniel Jackson, and I’m a peaceful explorer. Could you please tell me who you are?”

A direct answer was not what he was expecting, and so the crow’s quick caw almost made him jump. And strangely, he almost thought he heard “You first” in it’s animalistic sound.

“Um, I already said that,” he said, stumbling a little over his words. “The team that you took? They’re my friends, and they don’t mean anybody harm either. We’re just curious about you, about your culture, about how you relate to Tonane’s people. We didn’t realize that we were doing anything wrong, if we were, which would be nice to know, if you could tell us for sure.”

He glanced between them, but neither animal moved or made a sound. “Okay, you don’t look too happy, but you also didn’t make me disappear,” he said, brainstorming as he went. “So, I don’t think you’re really sentient animals, which probably makes you some kind of being that can send out holograms or alter its image to other eyes. Is that close?”

Takaya yawned, shook her grey wolf head in a vague diagonal motion.

“Is that yes or no?” Daniel asked cautiously.

“You are Daniel Jackson,” came a creak from behind him, prompting him to turn suddenly. Before his eyes, he saw Xels stretch and transform, changing height and size to become another humanoid alien, silver robed and with strange gills across its face. “You speak for the leaders of your people?”

Daniel swallowed, looking back to see that Takaya had dropped the disguise too. He wasn’t sure if he was glad to be right at this moment. “I’m just an archaeologist,” he said, clearing his throat a little.

“We think otherwise,” said Xels. “We saw how your leaders respect you, and how you know them.”

“You did?” Daniel’s mind flitted through telepathy, omnipotence, seers, and tracking devices all in an instant.

“Those who you call SG-11 never returned to you,” explained Takaya, walking past him to stand by Xels. Their stance was stiff and regal, befitting a race that posed as this race’s gods, perhaps.

Daniel frowned. “You pretended to be them. Just like you pretend to be the ancient spirits of the Salish people.”

“All for their own good, yes,” said Xels shortly, firmly.

“That is not what we are to talk to you about,” Takaya continued before Daniel could collect his thoughts. “You, Daniel Jackson. Are we to trust your people?”

“Wait, what?” Daniel asked, confused. “Shouldn’t it be, should we trust _you_? You still have our people captive, and you’ve deceived us at least once.”

“We feared what you would do to Tonane if he did not grant your requests,” said Takaya. “We have not worked for their benefit all these hundreds of years, only to let you ruin them with your ways.”

Daniel had lost the original question, listening to everything else that was in or underneath their words. “You’re the ones who banished the Goa’uld from this planet,” he said. “You saved the Salish, but you didn’t leave them alone.”

Xels and Takaya looked to each other, and Daniel wondered if he was pushing it.

“We don’t mean any disrespect,” he said, putting out a hand. “But in our culture, we value free will and honesty. If you do too, we mean you no harm. We certainly don’t intend to do anything to Tonane or his people.”

“And your leaders?” Takaya asked.

“I believe they mean well,” said Daniel, nodding after only a second’s hesitation. “You need not fear them, not now.”

“Then we will return your people to you,” said Xels, raising his arms.

“Wait, not yet,” Daniel called out, putting his hand out again. He had too many questions. Their eyebrows rose. “If you want to protect Tonane’s people, why do you pose as their gods like the Goa’uld?”

“They are young,” said Xels. “And cannot see what dangers lie down certain paths. We keep them from those paths, but we do not control their lives.”

“But surely,” Daniel said, thinking that now he was starting to understand, “you could do that without this ruse. You let me see you like this, why not Tonane?”

“They are younger than you,” said Takaya. “They would not understand.”

Daniel half shrugged. “They know you, they care about you; do you really think that they care what you look like? Have you ever tried?”

Once again, the two aliens shared a look. Then Xels turned to Daniel. “You may be wise, Daniel Jackson, but this is not the time. Your team will be returned to you, and then you may leave freely. We will never harm the Salish, and you and your people will be safe as long as you do the same.”

Daniel bit back his curiosity, slowly realizing exactly how dangerous could be. “What do you call yourselves?” he asked, once last question.

“The spirits of the Salish,” Xels answered. Before Daniel could say anything else, Xels and Takaya clapped their forearms together. They were gone in a flash of light.

“Dr. Jackson? What are you doing here?”

Daniel turned, and saw SG-11, looking less than confident and more than confused. But this time, it was the real one. “It’s a long story,” he said, realizing that in this case, he was the only one who could tell it.

ooooooo

The new Council chamber grown for this day was set up in a manner that Sam immediately admired. Crystal benches were arranged in a horseshoe shape, allowing for all to see each other, but the acoustics allowed for a lack of microphones. By midday, all the members called to this impromptu council were arrived and fully refreshed.

Jolinar and Sam took the least of the places at the edge of the circle, and Selmak and Jacob took the seat next to Garshaw in the center, with Ren’al taking her other flank. Malek was somewhere several seats down, and neither Sam nor Jolinar knew the rest well. Garshaw opened with her own thoughts, and then immediately Sam and Jolinar were called on to give testimony.

Jolinar felt no need to keep track of anything for posterity, and so Sam found it difficult to remember what exactly had been said as soon as they finished speaking. They had been completely honest, though, about the situation—just not, perhaps, how they came about this information.

After the facts were laid out, they sat down and swiftly withdrew from the focus. The other Tok’ra had good memories, and did not need to call on Jolinar or Sam for information as they began to debate points. Sam wasn’t so much interested in the current decision, so much as why it needed to be made. As the talking continued, Jolinar also stopped keeping track to clarify with Sam just what was the issue.  
_  
~Why would taking out Quetesh be such an issue, if she’s a minor Goa’uld?~_

_*Morale. It is something that cannot be predicted, but can easily be influenced. The removal of a god, especially if it is not by another god, will be remembered by all who hear. It could inspire a revolution, which if it happened unexpectedly could bring total chaos.*_

_~And how is that bad again?~_

_*If one Goa’uld wins out over all the others, he will be vastly more difficult to defeat, and vastly more motivated to pillage and conquer. By balancing the infighting, the Tok’ra keep the galaxy in a state of flux that we can one day take advantage of to destroy the Goa’uld entirely.*_

_~So you think.~_

_*So we plan.*  
_  
Sam paused, listening to the debate going on as she heard a name she recognized.

“We have more to worry from than benefit from with Ba’al at this point,” said Johanen, a female Tok’ra with an older host of Asian descent. “It was his attack on Apophis that distracted him long enough for Sokar to make his move, and if Sokar succeeds in his plans, then we will have lost Apophis through Ba’al. It seems wise to let Quetesh loosen his hold.”

There was a quiet murmur for a few seconds, and Sam wondered how the debate was going.

“Nay, nay,” spoke up Thoran, frowning deeply. “Ba’al is grown arrogant indeed, and it seems that Quetesh is aware of it. If she knows where to strike, Ba’al could become crippled for many years to come.”

“I do not see the problem with that, brother,” said Noren, a representative who had arrived with Malek. “Has he not proven dangerous to us?”

“And dangerous to the Goa’uld,” Kanan answered before Thoran could speak. He, like Malek, was in a younger host’s body, but his eyes were aged beyond any but perhaps Selmak or Garshaw. “Ba’al’s cunning has been a threat to them, and will remain so as long as he is in any power. They may ignore him, but they do not forget. And he does not give in. Cripple him, and he will return eventually, but in the meantime the Goa’uld will have a safety net.”

“And Quetesh will be in power,” Thoran followed on, pointedly. There were some meaning-filled looks among the Council, glancing back and forth, with no firm answer.

Jolinar silently thought her firm agreement, and Sam wished she knew more.  
_  
*The last time I saw Quetesh,*_ Jolinar said reluctantly._ *I goaded her for the sake of spurring her to foolish action, regaining her trust after we had been separated and then declaring myself Tok’ra. It seemed to work, and after winning the first attack I made it back safely. But she did not react as planned, and managed to see through our plan and discover how I escaped. She followed the trail as long as she could, decimating any village that might have housed us, and nearly discovering the base itself in the end. An operative left behind in her court was discovered and tortured, as she guessed that we would have left a contingency plan. The attack did its job in the end, but it was a bitter failure for the Tok’ra.*_

_~Why do you feel guilt for it?~ _Sam asked, feeling the weight of Jolinar’s feeling.  
_  
*Such a bold plan would never have been attempted were it not for my background,*_ Jolinar said. _*Yes, the Tok’ra Council approved and expanded upon my suggestion, but it was my miscalculation that is the root of the entire debacle.*  
_  
And Sam knew that the death of a comrade among the Tok’ra, so soon after joining their ranks, had not helped; it would have troubled Sam under normal circumstances, and she had never been in a situation like Jolinar’s. There were no further “whys” about the guilt.  
_  
~So neither Ba’al nor Quetesh can be in strong power, but the Tok’ra need them to play off each other and the other Goa’uld?~_

_*In essence, yes.*_

_~And what about Sokar?~_

_*He is an old player, like Apophis,_* Jolinar answered. _*Sokar has a colder, straighter intelligence, and technological superiority in mass.*_

Jolinar’s words trailed off, and rather than try to explain, she worked with her growing blending with Sam, creating a mental map of all she carried with her about the hierarchy under discussion. And Sam reached out, feeling the way the thoughts were like sounds and pictures and not, all at once, almost as if the thoughts themselves were transposing themselves over Sam’s mind to where she could “feel” them. It was too large for Jolinar to understand and picture, and too large for Sam to comprehend all at once. But she remembered Heru’ur, and the level of information kept about him alone, and Jolinar’s mental chuckle as her mind swirled at the idea of that being understood for all the Goa’uld was completely comprehended.

There was no way to understand it all, unless you had lived it all. Jolinar felt inadequate, for all that she knew more than Sam, relying on a thankfully reliable intuition to guide her. Despite the string of mistakes lately, she had not had to depend on luck for success very often, and though she wished for Sam’s assurance through knowledge, the current situation made her content.

The debate had continued on outside of them, going back and forth among speaker after speaker.

“We cannot underestimate the resources necessary to commit to this course of action,” cautioned Malek, speaking for only the second time during this entire council. “Look at what brought this situation so strangely to our attention, and then tell me that we can afford to carry this out properly.”

“Quetesh’s domain is small,” objected Sina, who sat next to Malek. “The coverage needed would be minimal, and the commodity most needed would be time. Time to make sure that every complexity is accounted for. But we have that time; we need not saturate the situation with operatives that we, as you said, do not have. If the right steps are taken in the beginning, she will not be ready to attack.”

“You bring to light that point again, Sina, which was mentioned earlier and not fully discussed,” said Noren. “And that is that she is determined to attack Ba’al, and believes herself nearly ready. We did not keep close enough watch on the situation to know immediately how best to put those steps in place to slow her advance.”

“No, Noren, I do not believe that that will be an issue,” said Malek, brow furrowed but without a frown. “Quetesh’s manner will make deep absorption of the operatives we assign go swiftly; she is no Ba’al, even if she seeks his power and his role.”

The discussion turned again, and Jolinar grew lost in the words, remembering that they were discussing this neutrally. There was no thinking of this issue in terms of Jolinar’s mission, merely a new mission that would require new priorities. For a few minutes, she and Sam let fly their argument for why they would need to volunteer and insist on taking this mission. Sam had caught enough of the talk to know that this would not be an easy, or short, one, but strangely that didn’t seem to matter anymore.

All their past goals, ideas, with relation to saving the Abydonians, seemed without proper plan or logical reason now. They had been emotional wishes, and rather than laying it all out before, they had laid each step out as they went along. Sam was just as pleased with Jolinar to know that, if all went well, this mission would have much more of a chance of success.

Sam felt the pull of the web of intrigue and political machinations that defined the Tok’ra’s mission among the Goa’uld heirarchy. The widespread dissemination of resources and back-up plans, constantly readjusted with each change in the world outside of the plan, and all preparing for one day in the future when it could all be used to fullest advantage. It was supporting, and stifling all at the same time. Jolinar knew the appreciation for a good plan as well, but she was pleased to feel Sam’s desire for just a little more breathing room.  
_  
~I can’t believe I ever thought of doing this unblended,_~ one stray thought escaped from Sam’s thoughts.

Jolinar could not agree more dramatically.

Hours had now passed, and at last the Council broke for recess. Sam and Jolinar failed to catch the last tone in the room, but as they all walked out, Malek and Selmak fell in stride.

“It seems that they finally acknowledge that this terror has gone on too far,” Malek murmured.

“Yes, Jolinar, you need not fear; my voice will be in favor of this action,” Selmak said.

“Indeed, it seems that your voice has found new strength, Selmak,” said Malek, looking to him.

“If you have spoken at all to Samantha, you would understand the source,” said Selmak amiably.

Jolinar and Sam had a simultaneous moment of satisfaction. If their friends were correct, then the decision prognosis appeared favorable towards them. And Sam could guess, and Jolinar guess more educatedly, that Selmak was as much at peace and comfort as he had ever been. Jacob had not spoken, but Sam felt his presence, and was glad that were going well for him and Selmak.

Nothing was decided yet, but the best thing about issues that relied on logical debate and rationalization was that the end could easily be predicted. And Sam and Jolinar were ready to take on the destruction of Quetesh and subsequent rescue of the Abydonian people as their official mission.


	15. Requests

The second session of the Tok’ra Council moved much more quickly through the information. As expected, the vote was eventually in favor of removing Quetesh from power as soon as could be achieved. After that, the impacts for the domains of each leader present were brought up and addressed, and after nearly another hour of discussion, the real issue was finally brought to the table.

It was immediately clear that there were very few free resources available to the Tok’ra. This was no surprise, and as soon as the issue of which operatives should be sent came up, Sam and Jolinar were finally called on again.

“As we saw on our mission, the clearest point of access is Dorieth,” Jolinar explained. “Quetesh’s plans seem to converge there, and the activity and turnover is ideal for a mission that requires quick and deep penetration into enemy territory.”

“That would be as a Jaffa,” Ren’al clarified.

Jolinar nodded. “Samantha and I are prepared to take on this role to its completion.”

There were some surprised looks around the table. “Do you think this wise, given your previous interaction with Quetesh?” Garshaw questioned.

“In our short mission, we had the good fortune to achieve a level of trust among the people of Dorieth,” Jolinar explained, channeling Sam’s easy way of stating things as facts. “It would not be easy for a new operative to do so, nor is it a position that would highlight past mistakes. Quetesh would not recognize this host, nor is she likely to guess when we are posing as a Jaffa. We are uniquely qualified for this mission.”

“And you realize the extent and scope of this task?” Garshaw asked, tone heavy.

“We do,” Jolinar answered.

“I see no reason to disturb this good fortune,” said Thoran. “Then Jolinar, Samantha, you will receive further instructions shortly on what your first steps should be, but you may return to Dorieth at whatever time seems most necessary. We will be in contact with future developments.”

Jolinar nodded, inwardly exuberant with Sam. Neither suspected that this would totally fail, but this fell in line with all their hopes, and while Sam was ready to praise intuition, Jolinar for once felt indebted to luck.

She and Sam excused themselves as the last minor issues were irrelevant to their situation. Martouf and Lantash were waiting, quietly expectant.

“Quetesh will be eliminated,” Jolinar said, granting them a smile.

“That is very good,” said Martouf, face lighting up.

“Do not rejoice for us yet,” she cautioned back. “Samantha and I were in a unique and valuable situation, and felt obliged to volunteer for primary infiltration.”

Martouf’s face half fell, and Jolinar was not surprised. “What then?” he asked with a sigh. There was a weariness to his face that had rarely been a stranger since Sam had first met him.

“It is our last urgent task, I am certain,” Jolinar said, the ache deep in her chest filling Sam’s sensations just as fully. “And then—and then things will come to a head.” Things. Everything that had happened in the past three months, the change and turmoil and compromises, and it would all be brought to the table at the end of this. The limbo of Jolinar and Sam, of her relationship with Martouf and Lantash, and of Sam’s continuing relationship with them all. It would be a long time in coming.

Martouf closed his eyes, holding the weariness there for a moment, then opened them with a quiet smile. “You are determined, as always.”

“I intend to make things right,” she said, stepping closer to a point where she was looking up at their face. “Whatever it takes. We will do what is necessary, but in order.”

Martouf’s hand strayed to the crook of her elbow, brushing softly through the fabric and forcing a spike in Jolinar’s self control and focus. He frowned. “This mission, it is not mere coincidence.”

Jolinar took all efforts not to tense or flinch at the sudden change of the subject of her thoughts. “Hm?”

“Your old enemy, a new enemy to Samantha and Sha’re, and the news coming to you and giving you the opportunity to be the ideal operative,” he said, face unreadable even as Jolinar tried with all her piercing intuition. “I cannot see what small actions tie them all  together, but I would feel more comfortable if I could.”

“My love, I do not even try to do that,” Jolinar said, sighing. “There is not enough time in the world to think so much over each action.”

“Lantash does not wish to agree,” Martouf answered, the heaviness being once again pushed away from his face and replaced with softer, lighter emotions. He bent to press a soft kiss on her forehead, slipping his arm around her waist. “Come, you look well worn from talking and staid council meetings. We can find something else to do until they retire at last.”

For a moment, Jolinar forgot about the hidden agendas, forgot about the frustration at being away from those she loved, and merely bathed in her own quiet love as it flowed forth. They walked side by side towards the mess hall, her arm matching his as it sat around his waist, leaning into each other with a closeness that couldn’t be learned. And Sam forgot everything that it all meant, and let all the complications melt away into the river of love that Jolinar felt free to share with her.

ooooooo

After all the briefing and mission reports and documentation, Daniel finally realized that he was glad for the new policies. The more time passed, the more he saw just how close the Salish spirits had come to being a threat to the SGC for no other reason than that his government could be idiotic. As much as they needed exploration, they did not need to destroy hopes of betterment before they even manifested. No, they wouldn’t get any trinium from PXY-887. But they also wouldn’t disappear in a flash.

McKay was still improving, and SG-1 itself would be going on a check-up mission to the Land of Light in another couple days, leaving Daniel with little to do around the base for the time being. Just for variety’s sake, he gathered up his notes on the Salish spirits and headed for McKay’s lab to ask him about scientific possibilities.

He was halfway down the hall when he was hailed from behind. “Jackson!” The clipped voice was female, and one he happened to recognize. Turning, eyebrows raised, he saw Clare Tobias, head of the engineering department. Young, blonde, military, and incredibly smart, she reminded him almost painfully of a Samantha Carter—but for facts, not theory.

“Yes?” he answered to her hail.

She was in a lab coat over BDU pants and t-shirt, but didn’t look like she had science on your mind. “C’mere, I need to talk to you.” She beckoned with a hand to her lab across the hall.

Daniel had no idea what it meant, but he followed. He’d hardly ever talked to the woman, but McKay had, and as usual it wasn’t resounding praise, even though Daniel knew that that meant nothing.

“I need a favor,” she said, hands thrust comfortably in her coat pockets. “You’re good at convincing people, and I have someone who needs to be convinced.”

Daniel glanced around. “Why are we talking about it here?”

“Oh, it’s a surprise,” Clare continued. “See—are you close to Dr. McKay?”

“Well, it’s not like we go out to dinner or anything,” Daniel answered, confused but able to answer the questions anyway.

“Just as long as you aren’t best friends,” Clare said. “Okay, so, he’s not that popular with a lot of the science department here. Most of us think it’s good when he gets taken down a few pegs.”

Daniel nodded, keeping track so far.

“So, when we were supposed to be recruiting new blood for the place, we thought we’d push his buttons if we could. Did you know he has a sister?” Off Daniel’s surprised look, she carried on. “Yes, well, they don’t seem to get along too well, but she’s an astrophysicist so we thought we’d get her here and have someone who could rip a hole in him.”

Daniel frowned.

“Yeah, I know,” Clare said with a sigh. “See, that was before he went and almost died. We don’t have any ideas about revenge or jokes now, but the problem is—his sister’s a damn good scientist. I mean, really good. As good as him, if not better. We really do want to bring her in now, but the problem is that she completely rebuffed our first recruiters. She’s got a bit of a civilian complex.”

“And so you want me to talk to her?” Daniel guessed, thinking things over as she paused.

“That’s it,” said Clare brightly. “And we’d like it to be a surprise for him. You can say no, of course; she’s Canadian, so it’d be a bit of a ways to go. But I assure you, her past record is amazing, and if we can get her now while she’s in her prime...there’s no telling the kind of things she might do here.”

Daniel nodded slowly to himself. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Jackson!” Clare finished. “Jean Miller’s her married name, if you do decide to take a look.”

Daniel nodded a farewell, and walked back to his lab, his own hands in his pockets. Two geniuses in the same family...he wondered if they didn’t seem that close because they were too similar, or too different. And he hoped the latter. He wasn’t quite open-minded enough to willingly recruit another McKay.

ooooooo

As soon as the Council finally broke up, there was an almost instant mass exodus. The meeting had been quickly called, and the leaders wouldn’t linger. One who did, however, was Malek. Sam was surprised to hear that he wanted to speak with Selmak and Jolinar on the subject of weaponry. Jolinar, she understood, but she had no idea that Selmak had any specialty in that area.

Judging by the eyebrow raise, Selmak was equally surprised. “Oh?”

“One of my scientists has been conducting studies on the efficiency of the power modules,” Malek explained, pulling one of the small finger-guns from a pocket in his robe. “And as a result, he traced back some trends to former models. He is convinced that the closer he gets to the older design, the better and more accurate it gets, but at the moment he is embroiled in the middle of the spectrum where nothing works. We can only compare his work to current models, so we hoped for your opinion on how close it is to the originals.”

“Of course,” said Selmak. “I cannot assure you that my memories are not tinged, but you do not care for that, I suppose.”

“More likely, I have no other choice,” said Malek with a twisted smile. “And Jolinar, perhaps you would like to assess the more practical options?”

Sam would have grinned if Jolinar had not. New technology and new weaponry in one item brought joy to both their hearts. With Martouf and Lantash as observers, the others made their way to a makeshift firing range deep in the Tok’ra base.

Selmak had the first go, and Sam watched with interest as her dad moved with a grace of motion she hadn’t ever seen, certainly not in the past decade, bringing up her last good memories of her father that Jolinar paid quiet but close attention to. And Sam didn’t seem to mind. After all, her dad was fully Tok’ra now, and his past would be open to them all; who was Sam to hold back a few precious memories out of a need for privacy that she had already let go in compromise.

When Selmak had little to comment on other than “It stirs up memories, but does not strike a solid chord on any particular one,” Malek turned the weapon over to Jolinar. There was a gleam in his eye, and Sam felt Jolinar match it. He knew what was coming, and he wasn’t alone. They all stepped back, giving Jolinar the most area on the range. Sam felt her muscles start to tense up in anticipation, and Jolinar started to think in ways that Sam knew. No math calculations, at least not in Sam’s terms, but the quick strategy flashes were in a language they both understood.

Jolinar fired off a few practice shots, feeling the weight and pull of the weapon. The power was stable, and there wasn’t much of a jerk. And then, Jolinar started her routine. Up, down, out and in, she moved both arm and body quickly as she let the energy streams tear into the wall of the range. Angle after angle, position after position, she was nominally testing the weapon’s range itself—but no one in her head or in the room was under any illusion. This was an indulgence of power, and it thrilled her.

“You have been commissioning deficient workmanship, Malek,” she said after a few minutes, after the shots that fizzled or arced became more frequent.

“It’s but a work in progress,” he said, smiling and coming up to take it.  
_  
~Can I get a turn?~_ Sam asked, curious.

“A moment, Malek,” said Jolinar. “My host wishes her chance.”

Malek’s eyebrows scarcely rose, and he stepped back to stand by Martouf and Lantash once again.

“I used to use hand weapons almost exclusively,” Sam said once in control, with a smile and a nod to Malek. “Not these kind, but I’m thinking it won’t be too hard an adjustment.”

Even seeing Jolinar’s thoughts, feeling her movements, Sam hadn’t experienced the true firing of this weapon. Now, active in her own body again, she felt the difference. Jolinar was thinking about the idiosyncrasies just as much, but there was something else present. Sam’s stance shifted, and she readjusted the weapon on her hand.

She took a deep breath, let it out, and then sent off a few rounds in a cluster at the center of the wall. A smile crept onto her face. Oh, she liked this. Visualizing the human-shaped targets of her old range, she sent the next few shots down to the area she imagined as a chest. One shot arced off, nicking an imaginary arm. She paused, remembering how it felt. Sending off another few shots, she felt the jerk of the tiny weapon, feeling the rhythm of the power surges. Just before the last shot, she felt a slight swirl to the surge, and flicked her hand just fractions of an inch. The shot curved around and landed right in the center of the imaginary head.  
_  
~That couldn’t have been all me,~_ she thought to Jolinar, astonished.  
_  
*The control, no, but the ideas were firmly yours.*  
_  
“Impressive, Sam.” This time it was Jacob’s voice, not Selmak’s. She turned around, feeling just a little exhilarated.

“You handled these kinds of weapons before joining the Tok’ra?” Malek asked, surprise clear on his face.

“Not particularly,” she explained. “They were projectile guns, just a whole lot more advanced than that sounds. We needed to conserve ammunition, so I worked a lot on my aim, and thankfully those principles carry over.”

“Mm,” said Malek, looking thoughtful.

Sam slipped the weapon off, feeling how it had become slightly warm, and handed it back to him. “That was fun,” she said.

“I shall have to keep this in mind the next time I return here,” said Malek. Off Sam’s slightly confused look, he continued. “Jolinar does not use these weapons usually, as you’ve probably noticed; I came to her not as an expert, but as someone who I knew would give me an honest assessment untinged by expertise.”

“Well, I’m no expert either,” said Sam, smiling.

“I should not have expected that on your first outing,” Malek answered with a dry half-chuckle. “I am sure that both your feedback will be greatly appreciated.”

Selmak snorted.

“Oh, and yours as well,” said Malek, turning to walk back to the others, Sam following.

“You miss carrying weapons,” Martouf commented, nodding towards Sam.

“Maybe a little,” she said.

“It is that, or else there is another reason for this unprecedented exuberance,” he answered, smile spreading. “What has you so cheered?”

Sam sighed, but it wasn’t in weariness. “It’s maybe a little hard to explain,” she said. In the slight pause, Jolinar could no more articulate such emotions than she ever had before, and Sam had to give her best shot. “I think this mission will go well.”

“And your others did not?” Martouf asked.

“It wasn’t the same,” she said simply, and smiled a last smile.

“I suppose it does not matter,” he finished, as Malek and Selmak were already leaving the range. “Although,” he added in a tone low enough for only them to hear, “Lantash believes it might be pride at being a slightly better shot than Jolinar.”

Sam bit back a laugh, and Jolinar was reluctantly amused. Tomorrow, things were going to get worrisome again, they knew for sure. But with luck on their side, and the simple joy of firing weapons just behind her, they felt refreshed. And with Sam’s father, Selmak, Martouf, Lantash, even Malek, she and Jolinar didn’t feel alone either. Two such rare feelings reminded them that things could get a lot worse.

ooooooo

Malek left a couple hours later, and Martouf sighed and said that he and Lantash had other duties to attend to. Sam wanted to ask Selmak a little more about the Council’s deliberations, but that didn’t take long either, and it was early afternoon when Jolinar pointed out that they had to make bigger preparations for this upcoming mission than before.

Before anything else, Jolinar wanted to eat again, and so Sam started taking them up the tunnels to the mess hall. They passed near their quarters, and just a few feet beyond they were halted by a voice.

“Sa’m?”

Neither Sam nor Jolinar had the reflex to control the instant tensing of all their muscles, and the relaxation of before began to fade quickly away. “Sha’re,” Sam said, turning around.

But she didn’t look imposing. All awkward and tense memories melted away from them as they looked at her face. She wasn’t holding Shifu, but stood with hands loosely clasped before her. Head high, hair pulled back so that they could see all the lines and dark circles that had shown up since the ill-fated meeting. But there was neither pride nor weariness in her eyes, only pain and desperation.

“I am sorry, Sa’m,” she began, voice almost steady. “I should not have stayed away.”

Sam unconsciously took a step closer, her gaze soft. “It’s nothing” she assured quietly, not knowing how to continue.

 “It is,” Sha’re objected, but taking a slight step towards her. “I thought I did not want to see you again, because—” Her voice trailed off for a second.

“Because I did something before you were ready,” Sam filled in for her.

“I behaved in poor fashion, putting the blame on you for doing something that I would have had to do,” Sha’re continued, voice rising in volume and hurry. “And I am sorry, I did not mean to, and I need you to forgive me.”

“Of course, it’s nothing,” Sam said again without hesitation. Her brow furrowed at Sha’re’s worn and nervous face. “Don’t worry, Sha’re, really.”

“It is not only your words I need,” Sha’re said, taking a deep breath. “I need—I cannot stay here with Shifu. I cannot live like this.” She paused, fingers brushing away a loose tear from one eye. “Please, Sa’m, I need you to get us home to Dan’yel. I do not know if it is possible, and I do not care what happens afterwards, but...please,” she ended, voice losing its strength just on the last word.

Sam swallowed. Sha’re wanted to go to Earth. Jolinar’s mind was faster, thinking about the mission and how it would consume their time, worrying that they would have to deny Sha’re entirely. “What do you mean?” Sam asked allowed, buying a little time.

“You took us from Abydos,” Sha’re explained, voice hesitant. “In a ship. I know that you cannot go back, Sa’m, not yet, but if you just take me there...”

“By ship,” Sam grabbed onto, thinking, collating. _~Wait...~_

_*The hyperdrive journey would be too long, there are no ships near to Earth in distance.*_

_~But how long are we talking about? A couple days?~_

_*No, weeks.*_

_~That can’t be right; how could Apophis make it to Earth in less than a day?~_

_*The newest forms of hyperdrive are not widespread yet.*_

_~You’re sure?~ _Sam didn’t need to follow up on her prompt. Just as she had thought of it, Jolinar carried it onward, and soon one person was in both their minds. Reyfa and Dru’ri. Neither Sam nor Jolinar had kept up with burgeoning technology among the Tok’ra; who knew what was possible.

“Sa’m?” asked Sha’re hesitantly.

“Sha’re, I can’t promise anything,” said Sam, reaching out to take her friend’s hand, looking straight into her weary eyes. “But I think you may have something.”

Sha’re’s eyes were too tired to light up, but Sam saw the faint glow of hope. “Yes?”

“We will try,” Sam said, nodding. She looked down, then back up to Sha’re. “Are you okay? Have you talked to Larys or Dorin?”

“I will be fine if I may get home,” Sha’re said with a weak smile. “Thank you, Sa’m.” Sam let her hand drop, and Sha’re turned to leave.  
_  
~Earth. She wants to go back to Earth.~_ As she watched Sha’re trudging back to wherever she and Shifu were staying, Sam realized exactly what she had been talking about.  
_  
*And you?*_ Jolinar knew the answer before Sam said it.  
_  
~Can’t. Don’t want to, not now. It would be pointless, worse than pointless. But I didn’t think; I’m not used to thinking of things in terms of ships and hyperspace. With the Stargate closed off to us, I didn’t think about anything else.~  
_  
Jolinar paused for a moment, thinking too fast for Sam to catch anything in particular. She seemed to light up with an idea._ *This could be as useful as anything. If it is possible to adapt the hyperdrive to a tel’tac or al’kesh, then we may fly to Earth. Your SGC facility was underground, and so we can fly cloaked to a spot just outside. We will not be seen, and Sha’re and Shifu may be ringed down, and we can be gone before they try to fire.*_

Sam caught on quickly. _~And after the Abydonians are rescued, perhaps by then they will trust Sha’re’s word about us.~_

_*Precisely.*  
_  
Sam felt a twinge of fear. _~And if they do catch us, somehow?~_

_*I do not see it happening,* _Jolinar assured. _*We will be safe, and so will Sha’re once they determine that we were not deceiving them about her.*_

_~It’s bold.~_

_*But you don’t care.*_

_~At this point, no. It’s Sha’re, and she deserves this. And maybe it’ll give us a chance to—to stop the cycle of betrayal. That’s really all I care about anymore.~_

With a new plan suddenly on their mind, Jolinar knew that this plan would take at least a couple days, and Sam knew it would take more planning and permission. They needed to talk to Reyfa and Dru’ri, then to the Council if it was at all possible, and then get this all into motion. And somewhere along the line, they had the most important thing of the moment for them both, to stop Quetesh from destroying all the Tok’ra had worked for and to fix their mistakes once and for all.

The peace of earlier in the day had gone, but the optimism had not. Sam was hopeful, and Jolinar wouldn’t have countered that even if she could. Things were possible, probable maybe, it was just going to take a lot of work and time. Thankfully, they seemed to have that.


	16. Information

“So anyway,” the marine finished, shaking his grinning head, “I thought you of all people would get the joke.”

SG-1 sat around a table in the commissary, looking to each other with disbelief. It wasn’t just that they’d heard it all before, but that it just hadn’t been that good the first time.

Jack leaned a little on his arm over the table, clearing his throat a little before speaking. “I’m not an expert,” he began dryly, “but I think there’s some problems with your logic. If you get scared half to death once, you’re half dead. And if you get scared half to death again...it’s just half of what you had left. Right, McKay?”

McKay opened his mouth to object automatically, then shut it, nodding his head with reluctant appreciation in Jack’s direction.

“Right,” Jack finished under his breath.

The marine looked at him, dumbfounded and with his bubble burst all at once. “Well, I thought it was just kind of funny,” he murmured as he rose and left the table.

Jack let out a long sigh and turned back to his Fruit Loops. “Yep.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Dixon with a small grin.

“Don’t mention it,” Jack answered with a slightly pained one of his own

“Surprised you didn’t say anything, Jackson,” Dixon added.

“I was surprised McKay didn’t say anything first,” answered Jackson, looking across to his scientist companion.

“Comments of such a schoolboy fashion are not even worth proper contempt,” McKay said flatly, taking a long sip of his coffee. After three weeks, the tissue injuries in his hand were well on their way to healing, and it was only the nerve damage that kept him from normal function. He could do simple tasks, but Dr. Brymon had him on strict orders to limit any strain.

“Ah, but the joys of sarcasm are not in how they make the other person feel, but in the catharsis,” Daniel said.

“If that’s true, then Teal’c, why don’t you talk more?” asked Dixon, turning to where Teal’c sat silently at the end of their table.

“I am in agreement with DoctorMcKay,” Teal’c said in his low and steady voice. “It is not worth the effort.”

“You know, that’s kind of funny,” said Dixon, chuckling. “You and McKay agreeing on what to say and how...”

“Is that an insult?” McKay asked suspiciously.

Dixon smiled contentedly and said nothing.

“Remind me again why we’re having a team breakfast when I specifically said at the start of this that that’s what I didn’t want?” Jack asked, waving his Fruit Loop loaded spoon in Daniel’s direction.

“Jack,” Daniel said under his breath, drawing it out to two syllables. “Training exercise today. We’re the lead team.”

“This is a bad idea,” Jack muttered.

“Well, it’s not like we could do it anywhere else, or they’d know it was a drill,” said Dixon quietly with a shrug.

“Technically, do we want people who aren’t smart enough to figure out that’s it a drill?” McKay queried in low tone.

Daniel didn’t bother to answer. Whether the arguments had weight or not, it wasn’t their goal.

“Perhaps we should look on our mission as a personal challenge,” Teal’c said under his breath. “Then it will have a purpose, even if it is only of our own making.”

“Sure, sure,” said Jack. He was looking at his breakfast, then stopped and looked at Teal’c. Jack’s brow creased, Teal’c’s eyebrow rose, and then Daniel could see the lights go on in Jack’s head. A wicked gleam came to his eye, and Daniel sighed.

“Right,” said Jack knowingly, nodding and turning back to his food.

ooooooo

Sha’re would have understood Sam and Jolinar’s mindset as they prepared to leave the base once again. More depended on their presence on Dorieth than they could risk with too many absences, but they did make a rest stop along the way at Reyfa and Dru’ri’s lab to ask the question. Reyfa volunteered to think about it, but she finished with: “But I only truly understand how current hyperspace travel functions; Anise is the only one who has explored theoretic changes.”

With Jolinar’s memories, Sam realized she should have known that. Jolinar squirmed emotionally, trying to disassociate her personal feelings about Anise from the simple task. Sam felt the struggle, but not completely. Jolinar surrendered to Sam’s tolerance, and they moved on. Anise would have to wait.

Dorieth was waiting for them, the workflow unabated since her departure—if her appointed leaders could be believed. The visible progress supported their claims, and the road was neatly paved as far as one could see from the entrance to the village. But Jolinar was already seeing more than the details of the picture; their period of control would be lasting much longer than anticipated. They needed to settle in for the long haul.

Sam’s first thought was for allies. They had avoided Kasuf and the Abydonians, not daring to let the former especially see through their disguise. It had been frustrating, but understandable. Sam now wondered if it would be better to have an insight into areas of the planet that Coron could not supervise.  
_  
~Don’t you think we can trust Kasuf to be discreet?~_

_*I don’t like to rely on trust.*_

_~I know that, but we’re trusting him either way. Either he knows our full secret, or some day he catches on to the fact that I wasn’t a Jaffa when he met us.~_

_*Damn, you’re right.*_

Somehow, they would need to find time for that. And hope there was enough to be convincing.

ooooooo

“Dr. Jackson, Dr. Jackson!” Daniel rounded the corner, and saw the petite Chloe Dorris. She was supporting, almost dragging, McKay. The alarms were ringing, and McKay’s eyes were wide, his good hand clutching at his throat.

Daniel lowered his baretta, then glanced around one last time and thrust it back into his holster. He ran up, taking McKay from the weaker scientist. “What’s wrong? Where’d you come from?” he asked hurriedly.

“They’ve made it to our level,” she explained through quick breaths. “I think he fought them off, but his asthma—I don’t know if the infirmary’s still safe.”

“It’s okay, I have an inhaler,” said Daniel, reaching into his pocket as he supported the gasping McKay. “We need to cut off the power before Teal’c can gate out; I think he has Walter under duress, so it’s any moment before he gets the password.”

“But we need two people to shut the grid down,” Chloe protested.

Daniel grimaced, helping McKay with his inhaler. “I can’t make it there fast enough, not while he’s like this.”

“Maybe I can overload it,” Chloe offered hurriedly.

“You know how to do that?” Daniel asked, eyebrows raised.

“Well, theoretically,” she offered with a shrug.

Daniel handed her his gun. “I’ll get us somewhere safe, you go do that.”

She nodded, swallowing, and took the gun gingerly before dashing down the hall in flat-footed lab shoes that slapped against the hard floor.

Daniel, still holding McKay up with one arm, ducked into the nearest lab and shut the door. He lowered McKay into a chair, then rubbed his shoulder. “Ow. You didn’t need to sell it that much.”

McKay magically had his strength and breathing back again. “If I had to sell it for her, I had to sell it for you. You aren’t that strong.”

“Not bad on the asthma attack, though. Hammond give you that tip?” Daniel asked, typing the password on the lab’s computer that would bring up the security camera feeds.

“I had to improvise a little,” McKay said, shrugging. “She knew that Jack had just walked by, and I might have been on his side.”

“Good thinking,” said Daniel, watching the screens. “The gateroom’s under attack, but I can’t see if Walter held up.”

“I wouldn’t have expected that,” McKay said, coming to look over his shoulder. “Guh; those marines have no sense of strategy at all.”

Daniel gave him a look. “As if you do? I didn’t think theoretical science offered base defense tips.”

McKay snorted. “Jackson, this isn’t base defense, this is LARPing.”

Daniel cocked his head, suddenly confused.

“Live action role playing? Come on, you haven’t been under a rock, have you?”

“You mean you used to do this sort of thing, for fun?” Daniel asked.

“No, I didn’t,” McKay said, disdainfully. “But it’s a big geek thing, so I’m at least aware of it.”

Daniel snorted, half laughing. “Better not let Jack know that...”

McKay chuckled back.

“And, she’s in,” said Daniel, focusing back on the screen. “Teal’c’s giving me the sign—30 seconds left.”

“Who else is left?” McKay asked.

“Three of the new marines; Dixon diverted their plan to blow-torch their way into the gateroom, so their plan’s a bit slow. Oh, wait, never mind.” The screen went fuzzy for a second, then there was a blinding flash and all the lights snapped out.

“I guess she did it,” said McKay’s voice in the dark.

“Not a bad training day,” commented Daniel with a nod. “You know, this is kind of fun.”

“LARPing,” McKay said again. “Way geeky.”

ooooooo

Kasuf was not convinced. Jolinar found herself wanting to drag him back through the gate that night, thrust him in front of Sha’re, and have her deal with it. Sam pointed out the hurt that that would bring up for both him and Sha’re, and Jolinar grudgingly settled back down.

They’d keep trying. More importantly, they needed things to go smoothly. Quetesh’s orders still remained to keep Kasuf always on the move, and Sam guessed by now that it had been in recognition of his will to rebel. She hadn’t expected him to break, she just needed him too busy resisting to try anything else.

They received a message late in the evening, and Jolinar immediately worried.  
_  
*We only just settled the Abydonians, and yet we are called to move them again. This could easily mean that the plan has changed.*_

_~Plans will change, they always change, we both know that.~_

_*So we delve deeper, quickly. We look for as much information as we can.*_

_~Do we know what this world is, that they’re being transfered to?~_

_*It is like this one, perhaps, but I am not aware of much. Only that there is ore in plenty, and at least something like a laboratory.*_

_~Maybe weaponry, then?~_

_*Let us not speculate until we must.*  
_  
ooooooo

The impromptu training scenario in the SGC was pronounced a success by Hammond, though he refused to say whose original idea it was. Now that the gig was up, in a sense, they couldn’t achieve the same results again, and didn’t want all their personnel to suspect that a real emergency might be a test.

McKay tossed Daniel a look when they saw the report that future scenarios would be planned in advance, though made as realistic as possible and calling for honest reactions from all participants. Daniel found himself silently agreeing with McKay’s assessment.

Everyone on SG-1 had had a large role in the scenario, and had enjoyed the experience very well. However, as the team departed for a check-up mission to the Land of Light, the optimism wasn’t unmoveable.

McKay had been cleared for this mission, as there was nothing expected of the team other than to make contact and examine the progress the people had made. Jack had been surprised at McKay’s request for this clearance, but Daniel was positive he knew better. McKay might be grumbling now about backwater civilizations, but this was a team mission nonetheless, and he seemed strangely comfortable with that.

Dixon was amused by the people here, and found himself breaking the tension from a more-easily-frustrated Jack. Daniel, having explored all the historical aspects of the planet, had nothing much to do when he wasn’t dealing with diplomacy. He found himself thinking about Clare Tobias’ request.

He’d called Jean Miller’s number last night, but her husband Kaleb had picked up. He’d been amiable, if slightly suspicious, and said that once Jean returned from the science conference she was attending, she might be willing to meet with him. Daniel faxed over his credentials, just for validity, and they ended amicably. Kaleb was not the sort of person Daniel associated with the name McKay, and he had higher hopes now about this recruitment than before.

ooooooo

Sam and Jolinar gathered together the slaves Quetesh called for early in the morning. It was some inconvenience to restructure the work teams, but they were careful not to show even a single sign of disapproval of their lord. No leniency now, if there ever had been.

If any of her division leaders found it surprising that Coron herself was transferring the group, none of them showed a sign either. The address was provided in Quetesh’s message, and soon the gate was opened and they were on their way through.

Nouska, this new world, was not a surprise. The terrain by the gate was harsh and rough, with jagged rocks that crumbled upon hard impact. Only just beyond, mining structures struggled to maintain a firm footing on the unstable rock. The naquadah within was worth the fight, as always. Apart from the mines, Jolinar noted clearings beyond that bore the marks of Goa’uld civilization.

Another of Quetesh’s Jaffa met Sam and Jolinar at the gate. “Come,” he said, indicating the village beyond the mines. The Abydonians were apparently not to be miners.

Apart from this area itself, the planet’s terrain in general looked rougher than anything on Dorieth. There was the benefit of consistency, however, which Sam soon pegged as important for many necessary aspects of war. Including research and development of new weaponry, which would also be tied to naquadah in this case. Jolinar couldn’t help but catch on quickly to this train of thought, and had to agree.

“Your response time is exemplary,” the Jaffa said, as his men took over from Jolinar’s in escorting the Abydonians to new quarters. “Quetesh has shortened the time on our production schedule, and I hear that these new slaves have nearly untested strength.”

Jolinar nodded. “There has been much to do on Dorieth, but I do not doubt that you will have much more to push.”

“Weak slaves are quickly culled from arms production,” the Jaffa answered with almost a shrug. “And the strong learn quickly that quality is necessary.”

Their theories were quietly proven. Jolinar nodded. “I did not expect this transfer; the ways of our lord are truly beyond our comprehension.”

“Indeed, but not in this area,” said the Jaffa, with slight reservation. “It is necessary to any rational eye. With many of Ba’al’s worlds taken, and their chappa’ais buried, she need only arm a swift and secret army to use them as foundation for an attack against Ba’al himself.”

“Swift and secret?” Jolinar asked, frowning.

“That is the development we have been producing,” the Jaffa said, nodding. “If our imitation is correct, Ba’al will know no more than that the Tok’ra have singled him out.”

“Tok’ra?” Jolinar said, almost too surprised for the role.

The Jaffa looked uncomfortable at that idea, but he hid it. “As our lord wishes,” he said, clearly not favoring stooping this low.  
_  
~That’s her plan?~_

_*Could it be that she still requires revenge? I cannot comprehend this...*  
_  
After a pause of reflection, Jolinar saluted the Jaffa and left for the gate again. Sam had a moment’s worry for the Abydonians, but there was absolutely nothing to be done even if there was any danger. Which Jolinar would bet against, and her odds weren’t too long, Sam supposed. But that wasn’t the matter at hand.  
_  
~What do you mean revenge?~_

_*Quetesh holds grudges for decades, waiting for her time. I thought we were settled, but it seems she was keeping time for the proper plan to insert her revenge plot into. If she can pull off a massive stealth strike, it might indeed convince Ba’al that the Tok’ra attacked. Which is dangerous to more than our mission.*  
_  
Sam didn’t need Jolinar to spell it out after a moment’s thought. _~The Tok’ra appear as a much bigger threat.~_

_*Which is entirely against the point. It becomes more and more of paramount importance to stop Quetesh before she gets too far.*  
_  
Returning to Dorieth, they spared some more thoughts to the restructured organization. Things were still well, and they could spend a few moments thinking back to Sha’re. They would need to stay here another day and a half at least, but the routine of this planet worked more in their favor every day. The time required to adapt a ship, if possible, would be theirs for the taking.

ooooooo

Daniel received a call the next day from Jean Miller. She and Kaleb were in a San Diego hotel for the conference, and she was willing to hear his strange request. All he had to do was be there by the next day.

He didn’t even need to talk to Hammond; it had been a while since Daniel had taken leave, and this was a prime opportunity. After a quick note to his team explaining his vacation, he realized that were it not for the SGC, he really had no ties in the world. It was equally frightening and comforting.

He decided against driving, taking a plane instead. There was a feeling that he was inclined to give weight to, that this would be a complicated meeting.

By the time he arrived in San Diego, it was time for supper, and he treated himself to a nice one. He booked a cheap hotel, and settled down for the night after checking over his information one last time.

The morning came with much more ease than he was used to in Colorado, and he called to make sure he was still welcome to stop by the Millers’ current room. The last time he’d done this, it was with an old friend; now it was a friend of a friend, if he could even say that.

But the moment Mrs. Miller opened the door, in a brown broomstick skirt and soft blouse, he smiled to himself. These were not McKays. He could understand these people. He extended his hand with an open smile. “Jean Miller? I’m Dr. Daniel Jackson, I’m the one who called.”

“Come in,” she said, curiosity and slight suspicion mingling with her hospitality. Jean Miller wasn’t tall, but she was neatly built and had a fair face, not too much like Rodney’s. “I hope you understand, Dr. Jackson, but your visit is very odd to me and my husband. We’re not certain this isn’t some bait-and-switch.”

He walked in, noticing the modest arrangements.

“Have a seat,” said Kaleb Miller, pointing to a comfortable chair in the main area of the hotel room. He looked to be tall and lanky, but relaxed in his own skin. His wife, despite her clothing, had a more neurotic air.

Daniel held his file in one hand, taking a seat and adjusting his glasses with the other. “Well, I can’t promise that this won’t be a strange conversation,” he opened with, resting the file on his lap. “But I can promise you—I had it delivered to me once, and it’s worth listening all the way through.”

“Well, you’re a fringe civilian vouching for the government...that gives you some bonus points in our books,” said Kaleb with a friendly grin.

Jean gave him a slight look, but Daniel felt that she wanted to be open. He nodded once to himself, and prepared his opening words.

ooooooo

Sam and Jolinar once again made their departure from Dorieth, and it was growing simpler with every time. Relaying the even more worrying prospects of Quetesh’s plan to the Council took some time, but their conclusion was the same; as fast as possible, Quetesh needed to be stopped.

As they broke up, Jolinar approached Garshaw. “Garshaw,” she said, bowing her head slightly. “I have a request to make apart from our mission.”

“Yes?” Garshaw asked.

Jolinar read her face, thought she looked in good humor. “It is about Sha’re and her child.”

Garshaw nodded, not showing any emotion.

“She is unhappy, and wishes to be returned to her husband on Earth,” Jolinar explained. “If it is possible, Samantha and I wish to take her there in a cloaked ship. There is no defense that could detect us, and we would only make the attempt if the hyperdrive were updated to make the journey a matter of hours.”

Garshaw frowned. “No defense at all?”

Jolinar gave Sam one last chance, but Sam was firm on this. Garshaw didn’t need to know the remotest possibilities. “None. It would be secure, would give Sha’re a place where she belonged, and she may even serve as a messenger of the good will of the Tok’ra.”

“You have thought about this for some time, I see,” said Garshaw, eyeing Jolinar and speaking carefully. “You must also have considered just how much time you may spend in this endeavor.”

“We will not take risks,” Jolinar assured her. Sam wondered if only a few weeks before, she would have damned the risks.

“Then yes, you may do so,” Garshaw said after a moment. She turned to leave, as Jolinar had nothing else to say, then paused and looked back. “I am glad that you are dealing with your loose ends,” she said. And then she was gone.

Jolinar didn’t stop to think about that, and Sam didn’t care to do so either. They needed to talk to Anise as soon as possible, to get Sha’re’s return into motion, and all the effort and time that might take. As always, there was no time to waste for reflection or long consideration.


	17. Brainstorm

Sam was only slightly less surprised than Jolinar when Anise was ready to help. Freya spoke first, granted, but it was Anise as usual who became obsessed with the idea. It became clear from the start that there would have to be a new dynamic.

“You once dealt with technology like this?” Anise asked, as they leaned over the screen with hyperdrive schematics.

“Not like this, but I think I have the capacity to learn,” said Sam, surprised at the question.

“Then try to learn quickly, because it will be essential to achieving any of this in the time frame you require,” said Anise. “Now, to the task.”

Jolinar took a back seat, as she had expected to do, and Sam leapt in with both feet. Finally, after all this time, she was getting something meaty and scientific. She knew almost nothing about Goa’uld technology, but just seeing the details made it all so much clearer. Anise was swift and blunt with her comments, but that only helped Sam figure out where she was making basic errors, and after a few hours she didn’t even feel frustrated.

At least, not about Anise. What was an issue, she realized, was what she and Jolinar were asking. Al’kesh had cloaking devices, but the average tel’tac did not. And the Tok’ra might let Jolinar take the tel’tac from their last mission, but the al’kesh was too valuable for such a mission. Also, its hyperdrive would be more difficult to adapt. Tel’tacs, though, did not come with cloaking devices, and Anise had no simple way to adapt one.

“In the end, it is not what you would call a cloak,” she explained, showing Sam the scientific formulas scrolling page after page.

“Chameleon device, yeah, I think I get that,” said Sam, nodding and taking in all that she saw. “You can program the crystal for that?”

“It’s possible,” said Anise, nodding.  
_  
*She always says that,*_ cautioned Jolinar, even though she wanted this to work more than Anise.

But before any of it mattered, they needed to conquer the issue of the hyperdrive. And that programming was much more familiar to Sam. Anise pulled up the reconnaissance and research that Tok’ra operatives had obtained from infiltrating upgraded vessels, and over a hot cup of hareshna Sam found herself brainstorming. It felt too good to be using science again, and even better to feel that Jolinar’s awe was slowly becoming appreciative. There was hope for the symbiote yet, Sam thought half playfully.

ooooooo

The hotel room felt open, the sun shining through the bay window and giving the light-colored furniture and walls a bright feeling. It was good for a conversation that was supposed to be as friendly as possible.

“Okay, first of all?” Jean said, hands loosely clasped in her lap as she broke the pause after Daniel’s self-introduction. “You want me to sign a confidentiality agreement? Not happening.”

“Can I ask why?” Daniel answered, not at all surprised.

“Well, that should be obvious, right?” she answered, with a laugh that wasn’t mirthful. “I mean, who can approve of the government appropriating science through secrecy? What ever happened to the free exchange of ideas?”

“It’s not gone,” Daniel assured, nodding. “That’s not the point of the program I represent; the secrecy is not for the science, but for honest safety precautions. If it can be done, the science involved is made open to the public.”

Jean leaned forward a little, resting one hand on her knee. “So what, the government just takes the rights of the scientists away? What about copyright and intellectual property?”

“Believe me, you’re not the first to ask,” said Daniel, hoping his open look would keep this from devolving into a pointless debate. “I mean, the things I’ve helped the program discover? I’d give anything to publish papers on it, if it could be safely done. But it’s not, and you see that once you understand it all. This isn’t your normal situation. It’s not a brain trust.”

Jean’s eyebrows were skeptically aligned. “Really?”

“Well, I suppose it is technically,” Daniel backpedaled a little, readjusting himself in the chair.

“Yes, I figured that out when your people contacted me at first,” Jean answered, sitting back up and crossing her arms loosely across her chest.

Daniel happened to note that Kaleb, legs crossed in an easy position as he leaned back against his chair, was relaxed and unaffected. He looked interested, too, which surprised Daniel when he seemed to have nothing he wanted to offer to the conversation.

“So why do I want to help the government, not to mention the U.S. Military, pray tell?” Jean asked. “Or for that matter, why do you?”

“Well, that is the question,” Daniel said, slowly, with a nod to himself. “I guess—I guess I just realize that this world isn’t perfect, and we need to take the chances we can. This program was and is the chance in a lifetime, and bureaucracy and politics don’t change that.” He finished, and waited for her reaction.

“Hmm,” was all Jean said in answer. “Do you want a drink?”

Daniel blinked. “Uh, sure, that’d be great.”

As Kaleb rose to get something from the mini-fridge, Daniel glanced over his notes. His useless notes. This was by far the most interesting conversation he never thought he’d have.

ooooooo

Hours had ticked past, full of the nitty gritty and draft after draft of essential planning. Sam found herself in a virtual course of hyperdrive lessons, and could only imagine the papers on the desks if the Tok’ra didn’t have such great hologram technology. Soon, Sam was inundated with the power requirements, the equations for naquadah efficiency, and higher-level astrophysics that she hadn’t had to touch in a while. It was exhilarating.

Anise seemed overjoyed to finally have an excuse to get to work on this. The Tok’ra didn’t use hyperdrive often enough to make it a high priority, and Sam dragged Jolinar into sympathizing with a theoretical scientist in a society focused on practicality.

The virtual simulations ended in massive failure early on in the day. Speed, followed by massive crashes in hyperspace, with the ship’s debris projected even to the point where it was shown how far it would spread after the sudden and unplanned stop. Even worse were the fits and spurts, which Anise didn’t have to remind Sam might stop them too near a sun, or any other dangerous part of space, if they couldn’t restart it in time.

“Is there any way to install a larger buffer on the energy transfer?” Sam asked, manipulating the code on the simulator with one hand and gesturing with the other while she spoke.

“Do you not think that the buffer was built at the greatest capacity to begin with?” Anise asked, eyebrow risen with a hint of disdain.

“Maybe—I don’t know, they could have cut corners on production,” Sam answered.

Anise made a small hmming noise, and reran the simulation.

“I wasn’t finished,” Sam said, as the program switched screens.

“Always test before you get that far, in case you’re on the wrong track,” Anise advised flatly. Then, as the results ran before their eyes, “No, you’re doing fine.”

ooooooo

“Thank you,” said Daniel, as Kaleb handed him a glass of ice water. While the English major looked completely at ease still, Jean’s lips were pursed and her hands fidgeted. This was pushing all her buttons, Daniel could see, and his appearance probably didn’t help.

“You know, this is all just a bit too under the radar,” she said, gesturing with her hand towards Daniel. “It sounds like—like a cult or something, not like good science at all.”

Daniel took a sip of the water, then set down the cup and leaned forward, elbows on knees. He wasn’t supposed to let it go like this, but if it worked, Daniel knew he wouldn’t be asked questions—and if it didn’t work, no one would care anyway. “Mrs. Miller,” he said, looking her in the eye. “I’m only working for the government and the military technically. I’m a civilian consultant, and as such, I really shouldn’t be talking to you like an official.”

Jean’s eyebrows rose slightly and fell in a single movement. “Well, that’s better,” she said honestly, emphasizing the last word. “And?”

“And, I’m not here on their request,” Daniel said. He took a deep breath. “You know how sometimes you find things, choices maybe, that don’t make sense when you state them without context? That no one can understand with just a cursory knowledge? Well, this is one of those things, and I can’t help that. One of my colleagues asked me to talk to you, not because anyone wants to steal your talents, but because she wants to work with you. And seeing the research she pulled up, I’m impressed too. We have some of the best minds working together on this program, and yes, there’s a lot of innovation that isn’t immediately made public. But it’s not a conspiracy to steal ideas.”

He sat back up, closing the file in his lap and placing it on the coffee table in between their chairs. “I can’t really say this, but there’s nowhere else in the world that you can find an opportunity like this. The possibilities...they’re beyond anyone’s dreams. And if you sign the papers now, I do have the evidence to show you that it won’t be a mistake. You can always refuse and go on with your life, as long as you don’t say anything about it. But I don’t think you’ll be able to.”

He pushed the file over to her side. “All I’m asking, Mrs. Miller, is that you don’t prejudge this based on the outer package.”

Jean looked back at him, waved hair pulled back in a loose bun, leaving her face easy to read. “You’re not a good liar, Dr. Jackson,” she said.

“I’m not lying, I promise,” Daniel said.

“No, I know,” she answered, a slight chuckle in her voice. “That’s what I meant. You really do think like this? Which means you’re either brainwashed, or telling the truth.”

“Or both,” Daniel said with a shrug, for accuracy’s sake.

Jean picked up the file, opening it and grimacing at the confidentiality agreement’s first page. She glanced over to Kaleb, who nodded and gave her a look that Daniel wasn’t qualified to read. “So, if I ever sign this, all I have to do is call you and you’ll explain everything?” she asked Daniel skeptically.

“Whenever you’re ready,” said Daniel. When she didn’t say anything, he rose. “Well, I don’t want to take any more of your time.”

“Oh no, it’s fine,” Jean said politely, as she and Kaleb rose. “You probably figured out, but I’m a tough sell on everything. It’s nothing personal.”

“I hoped it wasn’t,” said Daniel with a smile.

“I’ll think about this,” Jean said, nodding to the file as she opened the door for him. Holding the door open, she offered her free hand. “It was nice to meet you, Dr. Jackson.”

“And you too,” Daniel answered honestly.

He didn’t notice when the door closed behind him; he was thinking too much about the visit. And despite this little side-trip, an airplane flight back to work in Colorado beckoned for him.

ooooooo

It was late night before they had a working code, and Sam and Jolinar watched with interest as Anise brought in the blank crystals for coding. They didn’t seem like sturdy technology, and never had, to Sam, and the process seemed overly delicate. Even though Jolinar knew for a fact of their sturdiness, it was still a task that looked fragile.

If all went well, they could test out these crystals physically tomorrow, and then get straight to work on the chameleon device. Sam was anxious for the actual trial, despite Jolinar’s assurances that such updates were not irregular occurrences. Even more important, the speed so far boded well for getting this done in a matter of days.

Lantash and Martouf were back from their mission, and Sam let herself and Jolinar take a break after they finished the first part of this plan.

“When this is done,” Lantash said as they prepared for a goodnight kiss before departing to mutual bed, “I will expect a proper farewell before your extended mission.”

Jolinar, noting with appreciation the use of ‘when’ instead of ‘if’, leaned in with a less intellectual appreciation. “Of course.”

Despite all the thoughts in Sam’s head, she and Jolinar shared no dreams, and woke with fresh minds the next morning. Jolinar was surprised at how little she chafed at this way of spending their time, even though this barrage of knowledge was for a distinct purpose that she cared about. She let Sam know distinctly that she wasn’t merely tolerating it, that Sam should feel free to do whatever was necessary to heal the rift between Sha’re and Daniel. It was no longer a matter of guilt, a change that neither of them expected, but something more invigorating. It felt good; it felt helpful.

Anise ran the first test before Sam and Jolinar arrived, and then Freya came forward. Her favorite part of these things was the assembly, and so she smiled at Sam and Jolinar, and together they gated to the planet where the tel’tac remained in orbit.

Sam wasn’t completely comfortable with the crystal systems at this point, and though Jolinar didn’t know much more she was at least fully at ease with how all the manual controls worked.

“There are two ways to do this,” said Freya, opening up the center panel and removing the old crystals. “The safest way would be to test each step, starting the system and then preparing the hyperdrive without jumping. But you won’t have that time on your mission.”

“Can we not test it all at once?” Jolinar asked, arms loosely crossed over her chest as she watched Freya.

“Those are the options,” said Freya. “Are you willing to risk it? I can stay here and analyze the tests, but if you take the ship out for a jump, I cannot be there. If all goes well, you will be fine. But if there’s any error, you may be lost to some degree.”

“Which might be the case anyway, even after your tests,” said Jolinar. “We don’t have time for that.”

“You are surprisingly open to my hopes,” said Freya with a small smile. “Then I will just check the system once this is done, and then we will run the first test. I will need a full report, though, whatever the outcome.”

“Samantha will be taking note,” said Jolinar with a nod.

And so Sam was, and also of how Freya installed the new crystals. Once Freya dealt with the first panel, Sam took control for a minute to look at the structure, thinking of all that she now knew of the inner workings. It was starting to feel more real, less about pushing in pieces that almost magically worked, and more about the underlying and very real programming that merely had a simple manual interface.

Freya frowned, and put the last crystal in place. With a slight nod to Sam, they made their way up to the bridge. Freya started the system with the usual hum, and the ship softly vibrated, a slight rattle almost out of hearing.  
_  
~Well, it didn’t explode,~_ Sam said to Jolinar, with the amused joy of success.

“This is where you continue,” said Freya, eyes lit as she reluctantly took her hands from the control. “I will wait on the planet for an hour.”

Jolinar snorted voicelessly. “We will be back within minutes.”

Freya nodded, and exited the ship after one last look at the crystals. Jolinar took her seat in the pilot’s chair, placing her hands on the rounded steering module. It glowed red, buzzing lightly beneath her fingers.  
_  
*Are you ready to take note?*_

_~Ready as ever. Let’s take it for a test run.~  
_  
Jolinar chose near coordinates, inputting the data. As the hyperdrive wound up to open a window, Sam kept track of the diagnostic numbers playing out in Goa’uld on the HUD. Her gaze joined Jolinar as the symbiote glanced out the window, punching the button and watching the blue-green cloud prepare to engulf them. A slight jerk, and then they were in hyperspace.

Jolinar’s eyes flicked back to the screen, and it could have been either one who sparked the leap in their heartbeat, because the speed they were seeing was exactly as planned. Only for a few seconds, and then the ship wobbled and the numbers danced up and down.__

_~Uh oh.~_

_*Not yet.*_

Jolinar didn’t touch anything, and after a slight shake, the numbers picked back up. Jolinar hmmed to herself in satisfaction, and she and Sam continued to watch. The shaking of the ship and the flickering of the hyperdrive continued at intervals of a few minutes, before they finally dropped out, with a rough shake of the ship. Jolinar’s brow furrowed for a second, but she ran a diagnostic and found no apparent damage, not even slightly so.  
_  
*It will function,*_ she said.

Sam agreed silently, feeling like she wanted to pat the ship like an old rusty truck. It wouldn’t fail them, even if it might not be up to the beating of a normal Tok’ra mission. This would just be in and out, less than a day.

Jolinar had them back in hyperspace before any further thoughts came to Sam, and they came out right above the planet where Anise and Freya waited, standing by the gate.

“As good as your word, and more or less intact,” said Anise dryly, as soon as Jolinar stepped out. “I would say that I am surprised, but given your stubbornness on this issue, I am not.”

“Your hasty assembly performed well,” said Jolinar, sidestepping the words that almost dared to be seen as baiting. “Some instability, but nothing worrying.”

Anise eyed her closely, but with no true suspicion. “Hmm,” she said. “Then you will go ahead with it, even unfinished?”

“There are only three days left before I must begin my mission,” said Jolinar. “And I do not wish to spend my last day carrying out this trip.”

“Then we will focus on the cloaking device immediately,” answered Anise readily. “I believe it is possible to manage something within the day, looking at these calculations. Perhaps Samantha should become familiar with them before we get to work in earnest?” She handed the screen she carried to Sam, who took control at the comment.

The hyperdrive was pushed out of Sam’s mind by the time the wormhole brought them back to the Tok’ra home-world.

ooooooo

The visit to the Millers in San Diego had been rather refreshing for Daniel, even though it was a business trip. He came back to the SGC with a sort of renewed fervor, and worked just a little later than usual, even though his colleagues had kept up with the work and not left a backlog. Not that that would have convinced Jack, though, who Daniel didn’t have to talk to to guess that he thought it was all an excuse.

With that in mind, it surprised Daniel to walk to an upper level late one day and see Jack in—well, it might be his office, but Daniel didn’t think Jack knew if or where he had one of those.

“Hey,” he called, pausing, hands in his pockets. “You’re—late.” It was the only word he could say that didn’t seem to imply something vaguely insulting.

“Had a long call,” said Jack, with a tired grimace that might have been to stave off a yawn. He looked at Daniel, still standing. “Sara,” he admitted.

“That’s nice,” said Daniel, surprised. He stayed for a second longer, until Jack started walking. “I didn’t realize you were in touch.”

“We weren’t,” said Jack in a simple tone that just screamed of complexities.

“I guess she has clearance now, of some kind,” Daniel mused, knowing Jack wouldn’t just talk. He’d barely met Jack’s ex-wife, but she had seemed a good fit; tough and probably a bit snappy, but with a soft side that was obvious within a few minutes of seeing her. And overall, touched with that dark sorrow that Daniel hoped he’d never understand.

Jack, walking alongside Daniel with slow steps, turned his head to give him a sharp glance.

Daniel’s eyes widened, and he hoped he hadn’t crossed the line. Jack’s look wasn’t angry, but it had a piercing quality that almost seemed to stem from discomfort. But then it faded into the near-emptiness of matter-of-fact.

“She said she only wanted to know if I wanted to tell her,” said Jack. “I decided I did.”

Daniel nodded. “And?”

“You know, I’ve had worse conversations about the Stargate,” Jack said, his tone lightening, becoming intentionally lacking in seriousness.

“I can imagine,” Daniel said, chuckling. “So is she going to come and see it for herself, or does she take your word for it?”

Jack sighed and half-shrugged.

They parted company a couple steps later, but Daniel was thinking about the conversation with Millers again, and the one with Dr. Jordan before that. He wondered if it was easier for him, a fringe scientist in anyone’s definition anyway, and deeply in love with his work here. And he wondered sometimes why Jack stuck around, why he let the world think him a good soldier gone off the deep end. Then again, maybe he hadn’t realized that those would be the consequences until it was too late, and he wanted his team because they knew otherwise. Maybe that was why he had reached out to Sara, to have one other person out there who knew.

Frustratingly, Daniel couldn’t ask these questions, or rather he could ask them but couldn’t expect good answers. He shrugged, though, thinking that if he knew Jack long enough, one day he wouldn’t need to ask.

ooooooo

By the end of the next day, Sam and Anise were not on speaking terms. They had both worked late into the evening, with Freya occasionally coming out for reasons that Sam didn’t understand in the moment. Jolinar did not do likewise—she understood the concept behind what they were doing, but had no talent in dealing with the specifics.

But by the morning, Sam figured out that Anise really didn’t like this kind of work. Taking risks, yes, but not accepting half-hearted work. Sam, though usually looking for perfection, saw no reason to get worked up about it here, when time was the issue. And so she kept making intuitive jumps, and Anise seemed confused about whether Sam was just ignorant or knowingly stopping halfway...and she wasn’t being very polite about voicing her confusion.

As Jolinar’s past started coloring Sam’s current frustration, she decided to bite her tongue and just do the work. The chameleon device was not going to be ready in time, not in the way they had wanted from the beginning. It was too complex to work into the Goa’uld system as a loose program, and they didn’t have time to consolidate it into a compact add-on. They might be able to add enough of it to be relatively functional, but the definition of “enough” hadn’t been agreed on yet.

It was midday, and Jolinar was remembering how this time yesterday they had been exuberant about the hyperdrive they had installed. Sam felt a bit of a fluster, and Jolinar decided to attempt something more soothing than regretful. It was a well-intentioned failure, but Jolinar’s good intentions were worth more to Sam than success, and so it did help a little.

Anise slammed her hand lightly down on the table, drawing Sam’s gaze quickly. “If we do not take the time to finish the security procedures, there is no possible way that I can determine that this will be in working order!”

“Working order?” Sam asked, shaping the words carefully so as not to add any more emotion than necessary.

“Yes,” Anise said back. “The entire purpose of this? To bring you to the planet unobserved?”

“No, I need more than that,” Sam said.

“If you keep ignoring the security, the system is likely to waver indeterminately,” Anise said. “And then I do not see the point.”

“How long?” Sam asked simply.

“Two days,” Anise answered back without hesitation.

“How long for just being reasonably sure that it won’t short out on us?” Sam asked again.

“Reasonable is knowing for sure,” Anise tossed back.

Sam tapped the edge of the table, looking across at the one person whose help she truly needed. “Can you work with me to get 90% by tomorrow?”

“That is a factual number, for what I told you was an indeterminate system,” said Anise. “The only surety is with a completely security system written.”

“Just get me close, and I’ll take the chance, okay?” Sam said, looking Anise straight in the eye. “And don’t act like you don’t know what close means.”

Anise looked like she was biting her tongue for a second, then swallowed slightly. “I agreed to this, did I not?”

“Yes, yes, you did,” said Sam. Jolinar inwardly chuckled, and Sam put on a tight smile.

“It may be possible,” Anise finally said, and her fingers began putting rapid input into the device they were working with.

Sam breathed out, and they continued to work. Still not on speaking terms, not personally, but Sam wondered about when this was over. Jolinar wondered about how easy it would be to keep it only professional forever. They had a brief moment where they thought at the same time that easy was tempting, but not necessarily something they had good track record with.

As the flickers of the cloaking device lessened as the hours went on, they realized that this was coming together almost as planned. If that wasn’t a good omen for their next, long, mission, then—well, Jolinar still didn’t fully believe in omens, but it was easy to pretend with Sam.


	18. Satisfied

They hadn’t dared to let Sha’re know everything that was going on, couldn’t build up her hopes. Larys was once again the go-between, and when she had asked through him, Sam and Jolinar were pleased to give a positive answer. The night they finished, and even Anise signed off on the additions, they sent word—”Tomorrow”

Sha’re was the only reason they had to go to the infirmary now, as they rose early the next morning and went to see her. It had been a week since her desperate request, and it showed on her face. Shifu was still being a fussy child of not even two months, and Sha’re had refused all help before now. Larys gave him a final check-up, and Sam and Jolinar watched fondly as she apologized and thanked Larys for all his help, giving him word to pass onto Dorin once she returned. Larys only smiled.

“Is everything ready?” Jolinar asked, as Sha’re tucked Shifu into the makeshift sling that swung across her chest.

“I have nothing else,” she said with a shrug, and it was both pathetic and joyous at once.  
_  
*Has it only been two months?*_

_~I don’t know, it feels like a year for me.~  
_  
Jolinar did not say anything directly, but Sam felt that this was something that would change with time. Lots of time, maybe. Sam didn’t think that far ahead.

“We have had the Council’s permission for some time, so there is nothing to wait on,” said Jolinar.

“Then please, let us go,” said Sha’re.

Jolinar, in an impulse that might have originated in Sam, put a hand to the back of Sha’re’s elbow as they walked towards the gate. Sam felt the pang as they realized that Sha’re, one of the background constants of their Tok’ra relationship, would move on without them. They hadn’t had much time together, given everything. Maybe that could be mended in the future; strangely, they would both strive for it.

Shifu burbled from inside the sling, pressed comfortably against Sha’re’s chest and drooling all down it. They were almost ready to ring up to the surface when Sha’re started. “Oh!”

“What is it?” asked Jolinar, brow quickly furrowing.

“I have not seen Martouf or Lantash in many days,” Sha’re said with a worried frown. “Would you tell them that I look forward to a next meeting?”

Jolinar’s face relaxed. “Of course. Did you give your farewells to Selmak?”

“Oh yes, we spoke only yesterday,” said Sha’re with a nod as Jolinar activated the rings. “Jolinar—I am sorry for this.”

“What do you mean?” asked Jolinar, now walking across the sands of the home-world.

“For wanting to leave like this,” Sha’re said, looking up to her. “I know that I will regret my haste when it is all over, but though I cannot change my feelings, I want you to know that they are not permanent.”

“We did not think so,” said Jolinar, and smiled openly to her.

Shan’ak was standing as always, waiting. Jolinar gave him the address of the barren planet around which the upgraded tel’tac waited. The blue wormhole flushed open, and Sha’re did not look back as she walked through with Sam and Jolinar. Another push of buttons, and then they were standing in the middle of the tel’tac.

“Even with the changes, it will still be a long journey,” said Jolinar as she walked to the pilot’s seat. “Please, take your ease.”

Sam was nervous, suddenly doubting everything they had done as she realized that Sha’re and Shifu were now counting on them.  
_  
*Even if anything fails, it will only be an inconvenience,*_ Jolinar assured. And Sam didn’t bother looking behind that faulty logic.

ooooooo

Daniel momentarily had a little surprise as he heard that he was getting an international call.  
_  
“Dr. Jackson?”_

But that voice he wouldn’t forget. “Mrs. Miller,” he answered, smiling a little at the recall.  
_  
“Well, you beat me. Kaleb and I signed the papers; we at least want to know more.”  
_  
“Kaleb too, really,” said Daniel with a blink. That hadn’t been in the plan.  
_  
“I’m not going to try to keep secrets from him, not even for your military,” _Jean’s tone was amused but stubborn.

“No, that makes sense,” said Daniel.__

_“So, aren’t you going to use your evidence to convince me further?”  
_  
Daniel smiled to himself. “Not that I wouldn’t love to reward your interest, but this isn’t—well, let’s just say that I think it would be better for both of us if you were here when I had this conversation.”  
_  
“In Colorado.”_ Her tone was firmly dry.

“You can still say no, but I don’t think you’ll forgive yourself if you don’t do otherwise,” said Daniel, in his most persuasive tones. He’d gotten this far, now he was invested.  
_  
“You’re a strange salesman, playing hard to get like that,” _Jean answered. _“Why again should I do that?”  
_  
“Time of a lifetime, Mrs. Miller. Don’t ever forget that,” said Daniel.

He heard her sigh._ “I’ll get back to you later.”  
_  
“Hope to see you soon,” Daniel finished. “Oh, and Mrs. Miller? Thank you for giving me a chance.”  
_  
“You’re welcome, but we’ll see, you know.”  
_  
“I do,” said Daniel, nodding even though she couldn’t see. The phone disconnected, and he felt satisfied.

ooooooo

Sam watched all the controls with careful study as they flew through hyperspace. Sha’re was mostly quiet, bouncing Shifu and humming to him when he moaned and fussed, but not holding herself as one desperate. Jolinar found calm through marking each change in the diagnostics that Anise had made sure were front and center. An addition here, a rise there, a dissipation here and there, the actions meant nothing but held their attention.

Hours later, Shifu hiccouphed through a tear-stained face as he slept, and Sha’re’s eyes were wearily shut as well, her head leaned back against the chair. Jolinar saw the beginnings of wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, and suddenly Sam was overwhelmed with the grief for short lives. Even if Sha’re would be revived by being where she belonged, it would not be enough. Jolinar kept people far away from her because of this, but not this time, and it would hurt.

Only a few hours remained until the ship would drop out of hyperspace and immediately, hopefully, cloak. Sam joined Jolinar and watched the numbers rise and fall in miniscule increments, willing them to stay constant for as long as was necessary.

As the time grew less, Jolinar started running over the plan in her head. Sam started visualizing Earth, the SGC, and Jolinar started working out just how she could get to the surface most quickly. There was a moment when Jolinar wondered if she would be able to rely on daylight, and Sam noticed for the first time that her internal clock was not anywhere near set on her home-planet. She couldn’t have guessed what time it was on Earth, even if her life depended on it.

The minutes started to count down until it was time, and Sha’re woke, refreshed and ready as she could be. She held Shifu cradled in the sling, breaths no longer shaky from his fussy tears. She rocked a little in the seat, and no one spoke, because it would be best if he stayed asleep.

“Sa’m,” Sha’re finally said in a voice low enough to be termed a whisper.

Sam turned from the screen, switching with Jolinar almost with a blink.

“I know that I asked for this, but could you please tell me what you expect,” Sha’re said, one hand curved beneath Shifu and the other resting gently on his chest. “What will happen to us?”

Sam swallowed, thinking back. “They won’t stun you with Shifu, I’m positive,” she said, finding that the concepts of Earth security were a bit rusty. “But there will be guards. With guns. They’ll escort you to a holding cell, most likely, and then you’ll be searched for any dangerous items. But then Janet will run an MRI, and after that, I can’t imagine that they wouldn’t believe you.” Even Jolinar couldn’t go so far as to imagine that.

Sha’re nodded, closing her eyes for a second. “Will Shifu be tested again?”

Sam bit her lip. “I don’t know, Sha’re. But they’re good people, even if they’re paranoid, and Daniel will be there for you. I know it won’t matter to him what the danger might be; all he ever wanted was to have you back.”

“I am not truly worried, Sa’m,” Sha’re said with a small smile. “I am just thinking and preparing.”

Jolinar’s idea of thinking was a little more to the point, less speculative about emotions, and Sam decided to retreat to it when Sha’re had no more words. She was taking Sha’re to Sam’s home, and though Jolinar strove to keep emotions free of the plan—any moment might bring back those hopes and dreams of long ago. Over three months, and it felt like so much longer.

“Sa’m?”

She looked up and saw a frown on Sha’re’s face.

“I will vouch for you, do you understand?” Sha’re said, looking her in the eye. “If I have any weight at all, be it only with Daniel, I will not forget the reason that I was able to return.”

“If we succeed at all,” Sam said, letting the words slip before realizing what they were and biting her lip. “No, we’ll succeed at this, I know. It’s just—who knows what will happen afterwards.”  
_  
*Fifteen minutes,* _said Jolinar, still marking the time.

“Okay, Sha’re, we need to get ready,” said Sa’m, taking one last look at the numbers on the screen. “As soon as we drop out of hyperspace, Jolinar is going to fly us right down to the SGC itself. We’re going to ring you and Shifu right outside the above-ground entrance, okay?”

Sha’re nodded, as understanding as she could be.

“I don’t know how long it will take, and Jolinar and I will need to be adjusting things the whole way, so you have to be ready before it happens,” said Sam. “Can you do that?”

Sha’re nodded, swallowing.

Sam stood up, walked to the back of the tel’tac, and waited for Sha’re to rise. Shifu still slept, but fitfully now, and Sha’re bobbed back and forth as Sam positioned her right in the center of the rings. She looked up at Sam, brown eyes wide and excited.

“Thank you, Sa’m,” she said brokenly, her smile nervous and twisted.

Sam almost bit her lip, but then Jolinar pushed her without words, and she reached out to give Sha’re a warm hug. “You be safe, okay?”

Sha’re laughed, and wiped at the corner of one eye. “And you as well, both of you.”

As Jolinar encouraged the sentimental mood, Sam put out one hand to gently squeeze Shifu’s.

“Do you have any words for—” Sha’re broke off, leaving the words to be spoken in her eyes.

Jolinar held back, not making a move. Sam took a breath, about to say something. Then she looked Sha’re in the eye, and sighed, ruffling Shifu’s fuzzy dark hair one last time. “Tell them what you saw,” she said quietly.

Sha’re nodded, bowing her head a little.

The ship beeped to remind them that time was drawing short. Sam let Jolinar take over, and started to embrace the rush of adrenaline starting to course through them. All the planning, all the waiting, for this one moment. Sam didn’t doubt that it would work, but even so, the slight gamble gave her an exhilarating feeling.

At last, the timer finally ran down. Jolinar stretched her hands, ran the plan through her mind in lightning fast pictures, and then placed her hands on the controls. Stars replaced the blue-purple streaks, and suddenly Sam saw it. Earth. They were between it and the sun, and she saw her home country lit perfectly by its light. Jolinar flicked her fingers, and Sam watched the shimmer of the cloak envelop them. So far so good.

Jolinar started diving towards the planet. She knew exactly what velocity and angle, not least from the safeguards on the ship, but also with Sam’s implicit understanding of flight and this planet in particular. The United States started looming up toward them in a matter of minutes. Sam suddenly worried what the atmosphere might do to them.

ooooooo

Daniel took his lunch alone as usual, and this time he didn’t even know where his teammates were. Well, except that Jack and Dixon were due back later from some mission. There were a few other people in the lunchroom, but it was a quiet day at the SGC. Even though their schedule was still active, it wasn’t busy like it had been. For all the wonders they were supposed to be exploring, it felt like the humdrum of old reality.

And that reminded him, he should probably get permission for the Millers to get a tour, once they showed up. Hammond knew nothing of the situation yet. He rose, taking his pita sandwich in one hand and his empty coffee mug in the other.

Just a couple steps down the corridor, though, and paperwork vanished from his mind as he saw McKay dart down a hall. Even in crises, the man didn’t dart. Picking up his pace, Daniel followed him.

“What is it?” he called, as McKay turned to enter a lab. Daniel heard the sounds of excited chatters from within.

“Jackson?” McKay asked, turning back for a second and giving time for Daniel to catch up the last few steps, before turning into the room.

“Something up?” Daniel asked, curious.

“Oh, something’s up,” said Dr. Felger, as Daniel and McKay walked into the lab. It was the satellite monitors stationed in orbit around Earth, sending information to the computers in here to be analyzed.

“You know, just when you think you have to go out of our system to find anything interesting...” said Dr. Lee.

“Move over,” said McKay, taking a seat by one of the screens. “There was a strange anomaly near the Sun about ten minutes ago,” he said, in the general direction of Daniel.

Daniel’s eyebrows perked up, and he moved to look over McKay’s shoulder as he started to zoom in on the footage. “Oh.”

“And then something in the atmosphere, that we couldn’t quite place,” said McKay, “a few minutes after that.”

“Does the general know?” Daniel asked, a little more worried than curious for the moment.

“Yes, yes,” said McKay, shaking his good hand at Daniel. “Now look, look at this!”

“My god,” Lee breathed out, eyes like saucers, as the information McKay was pulling from the image fed into his monitor.

Daniel squinted a little, not seeing more than a fuzzy bit on the screen. “Is it—something?

McKay’s fingers paused over the keyboard. “No, I’m playing around with a figment of my imagination.”

Daniel wasn’t in the mood to respond to his, admittedly somewhat deserved, snark.

“Okay, this is not helping much,” muttered McKay as he tried to enhance the image

“Oh!” exclaimed Felger from a different computer. “Rodney, Rodney, look! One of the security feeds from outside the SGC picked up a flash of something in the sky that immediately vanished.”

“What the...” McKay trailed off, frowning. He pushed his chair to the right, Felger quickly getting out of his way as McKay looked at the new screen. “Good god—someone ring the alarm, now!”

Daniel didn’t know who did it, but he had other things on his mind. Because he might not discern fuzz well, but that outline was Goa’uld if he ever saw one, and his heart started picking up to a rapid pace. His hand was on the phone before he knew it. “Get me Hammond,” he insisted.

ooooooo  
_  
~Damn!~ _swore Sam, speaking for them both. They were a couple miles off, but that was it.

Jolinar had the cloak back in a matter of seconds, and Sha’re didn’t seem to notice from where she stood, waiting. Gritting her teeth for a second, Jolinar curved a tight angle with the ship, dipping down closer and closer to the mountain. Sam’s memories were all that she needed, and they were so close.

“Are you ready?” Jolinar called back, as the mountain leered up at them. Sam might have flinched at the speed, but she could feel every decision Jolinar was making, and she trusted in her and this ship both.

“Good fortune to you!” called Sha’re, bracing herself as Jolinar cast a quick glance back.

They paid Shifu’s cry upon waking no attention. Jolinar’s fingers flicked at the steering device, and the invisible ship swung around and suddenly hovered. Lowering it just a little more, Sam saw the sun-lit outer entrance of Cheyenne Mountain through the windshield.

A couple seconds more, and then Jolinar’s finger was on the button. “Good fortune to you, Sha’re,” she called back.

Sha’re and Shifu were gone in a flash of light. There was no time, even if they had needed it. Jolinar’s hands were firmly at the controls again, and they were flying high in the sky. The cloak flickered again, but if there had been any defense it would have been activated by now, and the only thing they could do was get out of range.

The atmosphere did away with the cloak altogether, and before the thrill of success could start rising in them, the cloud of hyperspace sucked them in. Sam had kept her word to Sha’re, and now she and Jolinar were on their way home.

ooooooo

Daniel and McKay had run down to the control room as soon as Hammond heard the news. Marines were already being sent up to the surface, and everyone was preparing for the worst. But before they saw what was on screen, suddenly the marine commander’s radio fed through the loudspeaker.  
_  
“You’ve got to be kidding me!”_

Daniel looked down at the screen, and the picture sunk into his head at the same moment as the muffled words over the radio. “Hold your fire!” For Sha’re.

“Dear god in heaven,” murmured Hammond, as they all stared at the footage.  
_  
“Sir?”_ They needed an order up there.

“Hold your fire,” Hammond said. “But keep your weapons trained.”

“Is this some kind of trap?” McKay wondered, breathless with the excitement and exertion to get up here.  
_  
“Take this and explain yourself,”_ said the marine commander, and Daniel watched him toss a radio to Sha’re.

Sha’re. His wife. And what was that in her arms? How was he seeing her? She took the radio and spoke into it. He saw her mouth move, and heard her voice crackle over the loudspeaker. _“Is my Dan’yel there? And Sa’m’s general?”  
_  
“Sha’re?” Daniel asked, impulsively reaching for the radio himself.  
_  
“Dan’yel.”_ Her voice came to life._ “Dan’yel, you may tell them that I come in peace. Everything will be explained, I promise you. I have no weapons. I carry only this child. There is no danger, I promise. The ship is gone.”  
_  
“Are we supposed to trust her?” Hammond asked.

“What possible attack would use this plan?” asked McKay, eyebrows firmly skeptical. “We’d be dead if this was a distraction.”

“Sir, remember the last time we saw her,” Daniel said, his mind overwhelmed but still able to think of something. “Sam—and Jolinar—but maybe we were wrong.”

Hammond frowned. “Dr. Jackson, I don’t think even you know what point you’re trying to make at the moment. But either way, this is not taking place under these circumstances.” He leaned over the intercom. “Bring her down, but watch her carefully.”

McKay, now that there was no interesting anomaly nor a frightening Goa’uld attack, was emotionally non-descript. He did, however, follow Daniel as he headed for the elevator where they would be bringing Sha’re.

Daniel didn’t know what he thought, or was supposed to think, or anything. His wife was here. Here. She sounded like herself, carried a child in her arms, and had come in a manner almost believably like this strange Sam that he hadn’t been thinking about. What was going on and what would happen, he didn’t know, but he doubted anyone else did either.

They stood waiting, even more marines with weapons at the ready. The elevator doors opened, and Daniel was hit with the image before him. Her hair curled just the same way, her face curving like he remembered, eyes bright, even if he could see the worn look of her skin. And that noise—the sound of a babe from the sling in her arms. She was in a simple brown robe, and with the white cloth sling added he couldn’t see any possible trap.

“Dan’yel,” she whispered, looking just as overcome as he.

“Sha’re,” he answered, wishing with all his might to run forward past the guns.

“I’m sorry, but we need to search her first and foremost,” said Hammond.

Sha’re nodded, standing still while the marines hesitantly gave her a once over. Daniel was itching, aching, to say or do something. He saw McKay standing next to him, arms crossed loosely, looking vaguely curious.

“No weapons that we can tell, sir,” the marine commander said. “She’s clean, unless there’s something more sinister.”

“Why would I bring my child if I was only to trap you?” Sha’re asked, looking from Daniel to Hammond.

“Your child?” Hammond asked, and Daniel felt the words begin to weigh on him.

“Please, there is much to explain,” Sha’re asked. “May I not be freed to see my husband?”

Hammond eyed her closely, but Sha’re didn’t budge, her eyes still wide open. “Get me Dr. Frasier at once,” he ordered to the marine standing next to him. Then he turned, and gave a curt nod to Daniel.

“Sha’re,” Daniel murmured, stepping forward.

With a joyous laugh, she took the few steps between them, and then she was in his arms. Warm, secure, smelling just how he remembered, and he buried his face in her hair and forgot about the guards standing round with raised weapons. For a moment he just held her, and then began to comprehend the child he was almost squashing between them. Letting go just a few inches, he looked down into her face, raising a hand to wipe a tear from her bright eye, and drinking in her smile.

He glanced down, and the baby in her arms moaned and wriggled, and he saw a round pink face with a golden glow, and big dark eyes beneath an even darker fringe. “Who is this?” he whispered, overwhelmed and almost in awe.

“It is my child, rescued from Apophis’ plans,” Sha’re said, and he looked back at her and saw old hurt and new joy mingling in her eyes. “I hope that—”

“That he will be ours?” Daniel asked, a smile escaping his happy confusion. Sha’re’s own smile broadened, and he squeezed her closer. “I didn’t think you would ever come back to me,” he said quietly.

They stood a few seconds more, and then a slight cough had Daniel turning back. He remembered the audience, and saw Hammond. “Dr. Jackson, your wife needs to be taken to the infirmary at once, for an MRI among other things.”

Daniel nodded, but couldn’t bring himself to let go. “Go ahead,” he said with a nod to the marines, who looked hesitant. With one arm around his wife, he started walking down with them to the infirmary. For some reason all his worry was gone. He wanted to know the whole story—but he felt that there would be all the time in the world for them to understand it.

Sha’re was back. He was not a failure. And maybe none of the troubling past months had been in vain if they had led to this.


	19. Family

Daniel didn’t need to pay much attention to his surroundings to know that the entire SGC was a buzz. He barely left Sha’re’s side for more than a couple feet, but the murmur and interrupting voices in the background occasionally would address him anyways.

The MRI proved the unspoken claim, that Amonet really was gone. Before anything else, Sha’re opened up with the first part of her story. “Sa’m and Jolinar rescued me from Abydos,” she said quietly, directly. “The Tok’ra cared for me through my pregnancy, helped my child when he was born, and then Sa’m and Jolinar brought me here. There was no other way to do it than through stealth, but that is all.”

She looked at Daniel, and then he listened to her words instead of the wonderful sound of her voice. “Sam?” he asked, surprised.

“Do you still think ill of her, Dan’yel?” Sha’re asked, disappointed as she looked him in the face.

“It’s complicated, Sha’re,” said Janet as she swabbed Sha’re’s arm. “Now, I need to make sure you’re in good health, and your child too. After that, I hope you don’t mind, but we need to do some x-rays and things like that to make sure there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Do not worry, I am not a bomb,” said Sha’re, smiling at the doctor. “I will let you do your tests, but not on Shifu, not yet.”

“Shifu?” said Daniel, looking again at the baby she cradled in her arms.

“Is it not a good name?” Sha’re asked, her smile transferring to him. “Sa’m said that I should wait for you, but it is good that I did not, no?”

Daniel reached for her hand, looking down for a second. He had missed not only the naming, but nearly the first two months of his son’s life. “No, it is a beautiful name,” he said, bringing his eyes back up to her face.

“Dr. Jackson, a moment please,” said Hammond from where he stood in the background of the infirmary, just watching.

Daniel stepped a few feet back, and Sha’re turned her attention to what Janet was doing. “Hmm?”

“Assuming that Dr. Frasier’s tests all come clean, what do you think of this situation?” Hammond asked in a low tone.

Daniel tried not to look back at his wife, and tried to focus on everything surrounding the fact that she was alive, and happy, and with him again. His brow wrinkled for a few seconds, but he didn’t frown. “I think it might prove what I said after the last time we dealt with this situation. Sam at least still means us no harm, and probably Jolinar as well.”

“Let’s not get too excited just yet,” advised Hammond. “The fact is that we will have to get a full report of Sha’re’s experience, including what information she picked up while she was with the Tok’ra.”

Daniel frowned, and rubbed the bridge of his nose, leaning forward in earnest. “Sir, you can’t just jump in with a lot of questions, though. She’s obviously tired, not least because she’s the mother of a very young child, and—and General, I finally got my wife back. I’d like to spend some time with her before she’s under interrogation.”

Hammond nodded. “We’re not heartless, Dr. Jackson. As soon as Dr. Frasier clears her, I can give you the rest of today. The woman looks as if she needs a good rest anyway, and tomorrow morning will be as acceptable a time as any.”

Daniel felt a bit of tension start to dissipate. “Thank you sir,” he said, smiling.

“I’m glad for you,” said Hammond, smiling back in a rare moment of care.

Daniel turned back, saw Sha’re looking at him. She smiled widely, and he felt a ridiculous grin coming to match it. Janet was just running her tests, and Sha’re was lightly bouncing Shifu on her lap. Daniel took his seat by her side, and a hand reached out almost without though to stroke her arm. She looked into his eyes, and he saw the promise that everything would be fine, everything would start mending to what it had once been—just as soon as they could get all these pesky people out of the way.

He held her gaze for a moment, repeating the unspoken promise, then looked down to Shifu. “Can I?” he asked.

“Of course,” Sha’re answered.

Daniel wouldn’t have thought he had room in his heart other than what belonged to Sha’re—and then all in a second, as he took the gurgling infant and cradled his heavy head, he knew that there was room for his heart to grow. He was going to be a father.

ooooooo

The journey home was no more silent than it should have been. Sam and Jolinar could have made it anything but silent, but with no words to say, they were peacefully pensive.  
_  
*Are you going to worry about her?*_

_~What would be the point? We can’t know or help at this point.~_

_*That is true, of course, but I don’t feel it wise to assume completely objective views from you at all time.*_

_~Nicely stated, not quite an insult or a compliment.~_

_*Because it is neither.*_

_~I could tell. I meant what I said to her; I think it’ll go well.~_

_*As do I.*_

_~All we have to do is our own jobs.~_

The hyperdrive performed as planned for the whole trip back as well, leaving the malfunction of the cloak the only error in their plan. Nothing to report other than a successful in-and-out stealth mission, and a successful return of Sha’re.

ooooooo

As Janet did her final tests, Daniel realized that McKay had left. Left, and shared the news. Teal’c came first, and Daniel only figured out just how much guilt he had born by seeing that some of it was now gone. Sha’re was more at ease than any of them, and smiled and bowed her head to Teal’c in full forgiveness.

“Without you, I should have not had Shifu,” she said.

Daniel knew she didn’t take that subject lightly, and the hurt and discomfort could not be over psychologically—but looking at Shifu, it was easy to see why anyone, especially his mother, would do everything to look past that. Perhaps she had even found a way to live past it too.

A little later, and Jack and Dixon returned. Jack was more excited than Daniel had ever seen him, especially since Sam had gone. He was grinning, slapping Daniel on the back, bowing courteously to Sha’re, and criticizing the baby’s features with the fond mockery of any uncle. Sha’re laughed, even more so when Dixon scooped up Shifu and started cooing exuberantly. The two older men were much freer with Shifu than Sha’re and Janet had been, and Daniel found himself frowning with worry as he watched their antics. Then they noticed him.

“Someone’s got new father neurotics,” Dixon snorted, as Daniel’s fingers kept a rhythmic beat on his thigh.

“Kids are pretty sturdy, Daniel,” said Jack, handing Shifu back to his mother finally. “Right, Sha’re?”

“They are not,” Daniel protested, as Sha’re laughed and said, “To an extent, yes.”

Jack smirked. “We would know better.”

“And don’t worry, you will too, eventually,” said Dixon, thumping Daniel’s shoulder a second time.

“Speaking of that,” said Janet, coming back over to where they all sat in her infirmary. “I’ve finished with the tests, and given the results General Hammond is satisfied. Sha’re, you are free to roam around the SGC, as long as you are accompanied by either Dr. Jackson or an armed marine at all times—just for a probation period.”

Sha’re nodded. “I understand.”

“Good,” said Janet cordially. “Now, there is a room made ready for you and your child on the VIP level—Daniel can show you there. I’d like to follow a regular check-up schedule over the next couple days, to make sure everything stays well. Okay?”

Sha’re smiled. “Of course, whatever is necessary for my cooperation.”

The others drifted off, and Daniel found himself staring at her. A year and a half, at least, since he had seen her this happy, this peaceful. She had aged more than that; if not so much physically, then definitely in the character behind her face.

“Dan’yel,” she said softly, meeting his gaze with a soft twist of her lips. “Shall we go?”

“Right,” he answered, blinking. He stood up, offering her an arm. “Let’s get settled for good.”

She snuggled into his arm, sighing as they left the bright lights of the infirmary. A guard stood at the edge of the hall, but as soon as Daniel shut the door, that was forgotten. It was hardly VIP by Daniel’s standards, but that meant nothing. Sha’re immediately found the makeshift bassinet, and Shifu, who had dozed off once the noise was finally gone, was placed within.

She shook her arms a little, sitting on the edge of the bed with a little happy sigh. Smiling, she patted the seat next to her, and Daniel blinked, once again realizing that he was standing like a gazing fool. They sat, side by side, taking a deep breath of the silence.

“Is it like what you imagined?” he asked quietly. She had never been on base before.

“It is like what Sa’m described for me, so yes,” she answered. “And so much better, because with you and Shifu, it is now home.”

So Sam was the first to give Sha’re a tour of this place; Daniel felt like the outcast one for a moment.

Then Sha’re turned closer to him, and raised a hand to brush his cheek. He lost track of everything in the room, in the base, in the world, and anywhere else. His hand slipped to the small of her back as she removed his glasses. Her face was close enough to his that he could still see every detail as clear as life, and he slipped her into his embrace just as she leaned in to kiss him. It was soft and gentle, because they were both tired in so many ways, and distance had taken its toll despite their loyalty.

But Sha’re pulled back just for a second, just to catch her breath, and then Daniel felt overwhelmed with her as she melded her body against his. A year of lost time turned the instant renewal of their passion into something that couldn’t survive sitting up. Sha’re pulled him back down onto the bed, his fingers tangling in her curls and pushing them back from her face as he kissed her all over. And he completely forgot about his glasses.

Tonight he wouldn’t be going home to an empty bed. Not when everything he had ever wanted was here. Sha’re might advise him to thank Sam for it, if she could have anything on her mind but him—and if he had any mind left to hear. They were happy to be otherwise occupied.

ooooooo

Sam conveyed the records to Anise, who frowned at the error, but as Sam left the most flawless information till last, they parted on smooth terms. Sam wondered how often Anise was called on for things like this, and Jolinar had to admit that she didn’t know. The Tok’ra made innovations, of course, but nothing that Jolinar was familiar with. Any of them could have taken years just as much as weeks; Jolinar had only ever used them.

There wasn’t much time left in the day, and nothing on their schedule. As planned, they would have a full day of rest before returning to Quetesh—and it was unlikely that they’d be coming back here again, not for a long time, not when reports could be made distantly.

Jolinar noticed it first, the difference in the feeling now that Sha’re was home. The way there wasn’t an unconscious tensing as they ringed down to the tunnels, the way they could focus and not feel like they were forgetting something. Jolinar couldn’t recall the last time she had felt like that, but in the silence Sam seemed to understand that it had been with Rosha.  
_  
~Are we ever going to talk about that?~ _Her question wasn’t tentative, but it was soft.  
_  
*It is possible.* _There was no flinch in her answer, no true avoidance.

But not today, not before the mission like this. Jolinar knew where Selmak’s quarters were, and Sam had a feeling she’d be familiar with their location too before long. He and Jacob were still taking it easy, but more than happy to liven things up.

“All these memories and stories—it’s almost like being in history class,” Jacob said, as Sam hugged him.

“I haven’t really focused on that part,” Sam admitted, sitting next to him on the bed in the quarters. “It’s been more like—a family drama, than anything else.”

“Which Selmak is finding very odd,” Jacob said, leaning back and stretching his arm out across the headrest that they sat against. “Did you notice that they don’t really deal much with relationships? Everything’s very understated, but not on purpose. So Selmak’s used to reading between the lines, and now—we brought lines, kid. Big fat ones.”

Sam grinned. “It is a bit strange for them, I guess, two hosts who have a history.”  
_  
*To go along with the two symbiotes, yes, it is abnormal.*  
_  
“It is the sort of relationship that should be encouraged, in any normal society,” Selmak said, and neither Sam nor Jolinar had noticed the change. “And if it is not here, then at least in this situation it is paramount.”

“Is that what you think?” Jolinar asked, when Sam wasn’t sure what to make of it. Her feelings were wary, and it seemed like Selmak had spoken words that touched her, but she couldn’t qualify how.

“I think that your relationship with Samantha, and mine with Jacob, has saved much disaster,” said Selmak.

Jolinar turned a little, looking across at Selmak’s expression on Jacob’s face. She said nothing, falling back to inner thoughts of how some of that disaster was a result of the relationship in the first place.

“In any case, we may now be at ease and without guilt over personal behavior, if I am correct,” Selmak finished, clearly implying that the ‘if’ was not needed. His arm seemed to slip a little, resting around Jolinar’s shoulders.

Jolinar paid attention to the action, and Sam recognized its purpose first. Jolinar gave a light sigh and didn’t pull back, though. “If you are correct,” she said, finishing the conversation for the moment.

It was a quiet evening, and the physical closeness of the four was comforting in the way it drowned out all barriers. This was abnormal—this was something Jolinar had only ever shared before with her mates. But Sam remembered family as such a core value that it did not feel wrong to feel it as more than a memory.

ooooooo

Daniel woke and couldn’t breathe. Panic flooding his veins, he turned his head from what was smothering it, and gulped in half air and half—well, half Sha’re’s hair. As the adrenaline was already beginning to dissipate, he brought up his hand and pulled the attacking curls from his face, smiling as he spat out a couple loose strands. He would give anything to wake up in terror every morning, if it was always just the fear that his wife was over-close to him in the night.

Her warm body was draped over him, her head and one hand resting beneath the covers on his bare chest. Sometime in between love and utter exhaustion, Sha’re had moved Shifu into the bed with him so that she was sandwiched between them both. As this meant that she was within arms’ reach to quiet the child in the night, Daniel had fully approved, as Shifu was very picky about meals and comfort.

That being said, and despite the late night, Daniel felt alert and refreshed. He hadn’t even had coffee yet, and though he knew he’d need it in a little, right now he did not. He lay comfortably, Sha’re’s sleeping frame rising with his chest at every breath. Running his fingers gently up her skin, he stroked the smoothness of her back, brushed each stretch mark on her side, and started to write imaginary characters with his fingertips. Safety, health, happiness, in Chinese and Japanese and Ancient Egyptian.

After a few minutes she woke with a giggle under her breath. “Dan’yel,” she whispered, “that feels strange.”

“So did your hair in my mouth this morning,” he answered back.

He felt her free hand reach to touch Shifu, make sure he was still there.

“He’s not an early riser?” Daniel asked quietly.

Sha’re shook her head, lifting it to look Daniel in the face. “He is usually up too late; he was most cooperative last night.”

“Most cooperative?” Daniel asked, a bemused smile at the word choice.

“Are you surprised at how I speak, Dan’yel?” she asked playfully, dancing her fingers up his chest and throat.

“Perhaps I will not be once I hear your full story,” Daniel allowed. She dipped down for a kiss, something slow and sweet in the morning. No urgency needed. “I love you,” he murmured, in the Abydonian they had once spoken to each other.

Despite the situation, he managed to pull out a half-normal morning for all three of them. Sha’re wore her short underrobe beneath the set of fatigues that had been prepared for her, but refused flat out to put Shifu in the “horrid” plastic diapers provided. She had brought her own linen ones, and Daniel didn’t blame her choice.

It was only on leaving the room that Daniel remembered that things in general weren’t exactly back to normal like in his world. Technically Sha’re was still on probation. Technically she needed to be interrogated first and foremost. Technically even taking those two things out of the question, nothing was normal at all about the situation.

Of all the mornings that Daniel didn’t care about team meals, this was the one where he cared least, and where all the team swarmed them. At least, that was Daniel’s perception. Dixon gave his greetings to Sha’re again, saying with a wink that he wasn’t sure if she noticed him yesterday.

She laughed, and didn’t exactly deny the fact.

McKay too had a few words, and Jack quite a few more. Teal’c held Shifu for Sha’re so that she would have both hands to eat.

“I recall when Ry’ac, my son, was of a similar size to this,” he said.

“I didn’t know you had a son,” said Sha’re, nodding her thanks to him. Shifu was staring with saucer eyes up at Teal’c, but not fussing. “How many years?”

“Eight,” Teal’c answered. He looked down at Shifu, and smiled in a way that Daniel had not seen before. Shifu didn’t expect it either, and froze after a blink. But he was not crying, and so Daniel tried to feel as at ease as Sha’re.

The team did leave them after breakfast, and life on the base was continuing as usual. McKay mentioned wanting to ask Sha’re a few questions about how she got here, because his duty was going to be installing better outside security.

“You’ll get the notes from the meeting,” Daniel said.

As McKay preferred facts to communication, even with someone like Sha’re whom he seemed to like instantly, no protestation followed.

“I will need my focus to remember,” Sha’re said, as Daniel led her towards the briefing room where she would give her full report on her rescue and return. “Will you keep Shifu?”

Daniel nodded quickly. “Of course.” Janet had provided Sha’re with a bottle, and while Sha’re was skeptic of using it for feeding, she let Daniel fill it with water to keep Shifu occupied.

General Hammond sat at the head of the table, accompanied on either side by representatives of the Pentagon and the NID. Sha’re took her seat just down from that, and Daniel took the seat across from her, holding Shifu upright in his lap so that he could see Sha’re.

“We would like to start off with your unhindered story, Mrs. Jackson,” said Godwin, the NID agent, opening his files and clicking his pen open.

“Just tell us everything that you think is important, from time you last saw Dr. Jackson until now,” said Hammond, a little more personal in tone.

If they expected her to cringe under the cool gaze and formal atmosphere, they had not been paying attention to the reports. Though Daniel himself was surprised at her easy air, it soon became clear that she’d been preparing for this.

“What made you trust Captain Carter, even knowing she was possessed?” Cribbins from the Pentagon asked, as Sha’re made it through to the part of the story where Sam had come to Abydos.

“She did not behave as a Goa’uld would,” said Sha’re, resting her hands in a clasped position on the edge of the table, in a manner that imitated Mr. Godwin in a way he seemed to find eery. “There was no force, only promises of aid.”

“Such as?” Cribbins questioned.

“A promise to return me to my Dan’yel once Amonet was slain,” said Sha’re.

“And these promises were kept?”

“Yes, and much more,” said Sha’re. “I was treated as a guest, even when Sa’m and Jolinar were not around.”

“You speak of the two as separate,” Godwin brought in.

“Was I not separate from Amonet?” Sha’re asked him, her eyelids slightly hooding her eyes in an impression of simplicity.

As the conversation continued, Sha’re’s good humor seemed to fade with every question. Daniel might have guessed that they had made a mistake with Sam long before this, and maybe even Hammond had reassessed that issue—but these two men had certainly not. Even worse, they were simply spouting the reasoning that had been the SGC’s only recently—and it was hurting Sha’re. The more she talked of Sam and Jolinar’s care for her, and the support of the Tok’ra in general for her case, the more Daniel felt her disbelief that these suspicious questions were still being asked.

He felt guilty for ever allowing that she might not be telling the objective truth. It did not matter if it was subjective, because this whole matter was. And there was no way that a base of hundreds would change its entire purpose just to fool one woman who might report back to the SGC. Sha’re might be biased, but she couldn’t help but speak the truth.

Daniel had a feeling that the analysis of this briefing would be just as painful for all of them as its necessity was to Sha’re. Shifu bounced in his lap, suckling down the water in the bottle with gusto, and Daniel now knew just how indebted he was to Sam and Jolinar for this opportunity.

ooooooo

“Are you free?” Sam asked, as she finished breakfast with her father and Selmak.

“For whatever you have in mind,” Jacob said, nodding. “Selmak and I have decided to use our time wisely before the grind begins.”

Sam grinned. “Maybe a game or two, then?”

“Sounds good,” said Jacob, and Sam could see his mind conferring with Selmak on what game they had been familiar with. He frowned. “Wait—come on, Sammy.”

She cocked an eyebrow at the name, while Jolinar tried to grimace but only managed a mental smirk. She blamed Sam for the fact that she was almost finding this amusing.

“Checkers?” Jacob looked incredulous. “You just showed them checkers?”

“It was simple,” said Sam. “Chess, then? I’m sure you and I could make a set.”

“That’s more like it,” said Jacob with a snorting sigh. “I knew I’d have something to teach this old guy.”

Sam laughed. “You would assume that, Dad.”

If it hadn’t been for her dad’s straight-forward outlook, Sam would have felt silly scrounging for appropriate chess-like pieces. He was impressed by the checker-board that they’d created, and both Sam and Jolinar discovered that Selmak had an artistic side. After attaching small scraps of tunnel crystal to each other in a style that was close enough for those who knew what it should look like, they retired to Selmak and Jacob’s quarters again.

Jolinar didn’t want to hear the rules, and though Selmak was a quick learner, he preferred that Jacob start. So Sam took white and Jacob took black, and they played a few traditional moves. It was not hard for Sam to see just when Jolinar started to take interest, and realize that the game wasn’t just a mind puzzle. Jolinar had never cared for planning out strategies just for the fun of it, but as Sam started to win and lose pieces, Jolinar suddenly found herself caring. And she blamed Sam.

They played in a fairly standard fashion for the first half hour, both Sam and Jacob immersing themselves in playing the game for people who had never heard of it. They were rusty too.

Then Jolinar caught onto Sam’s building strategy, cautious as she judged how her father was going to play. The symbiote pulled it into focus, giving Sam a moment’s pause to recheck, and then Jolinar’s intuition took hold and spun out exactly what Sam had been planning.  
_  
~How did you—wait.~_ Sam struggled with it for a moment, Jolinar equally in the dark, until Sam accepted the fact that Jolinar just knew how things worked. She acted quickly, but when it failed, it wasn’t a lack of planning, just that one could never know the exact future. But when it worked, it wasn’t just luck, it was just that she unconsciously knew in an instant what took Sam logical progression to figure out.  
_  
*And your reasoning for that is proof,* _Jolinar commented, not objecting to the content.

While they waited, Jacob finished thinking. He moved his bishop, and Sam and Jolinar frowned at once. “That’s unusual,” Sam said aloud.

“Selmak is not so sure he does not know how to play,” Jacob said with a hinting smirk. “And he’s bringing in strategies I’d never seen before.”

Sam said nothing, only looked at the board, knowing that now she’d have to rethink her strategy to take new ones from them into account. _~Jolinar, want a go at it?~  
_  
Far from the caution she’d felt before, Jolinar had a feeling she knew Selmak well enough to make this work. _*You have convinced me about this game of yours,*_ she said as she eventually prepared her move.

Many hours later, with a stalemate outcome, Sam and Jolinar took their leave. It was one of the few times that Jolinar didn’t feel urgently called back to their mission. Despite the relaxation, chess was just a warm-up to the real thing awaiting them. Now, just as the peace and satisfaction made it comfortable for them to be often around others of the Tok’ra, they were facing a long mission. Jolinar almost regretted that she still had so few that she called close to her.

And Sam, through her, didn’t regret so much as wonder how her few were so closely tied to Jolinar’s.


	20. Lifework

The NID didn’t have much change in heart after the briefing. Sha’re was now as Teal’c had been, only worse. Teal’c had been raised, perhaps brainwashed, to believe in the Goa’uld. Sha’re had the memories of one in her mind. Daniel didn’t dare to fight them on the point, not when everything was so close in balance.

The one thing on his side was the cautions about diplomacy lately. Sha’re would probably be considered a leader figure to the Abydonians, and was also a de facto ambassador from the Tok’ra. And the NID weren’t sure what they believed, but they couldn’t afford to completely disregard Sha’re’s extensive testimony about the Tok’ra. They were no longer named as enemies, but certainly not allies yet. Much like Sha’re, who was required to both stay on base and be subject to both physical and psychological check-ups on a regular basis.

Daniel worried, but as that was as far as it went, he took what he could get. Sha’re, while not given a general keycard, could walk around without an armed guard and open the door to her room. Their room, now. Daniel announced that he was not going to be going back to his apartment, and everyone seemed to approve. He even had the NID’s support, as there would always be an eye on Sha’re.

And Daniel didn’t intend taking his eyes off of her for quite some time. Despite the worries, she was here, and she was herself, and all the pent-up frustration and pain were fading faster than he could tell. Peace and love filled him, even as he looked to Shifu. Shifu, who wasn’t his, no matter what he and Sha’re promised to each other. Someday, he promised to himself, he’d overcome the hurt with love.

“Do you want to go to your people before tonight?” Daniel asked, as he helped Sha’re finish arranging their room. “I could make it happen, I think.”

“Not yet,” said Sha’re, holding the incense that Daniel had always kept in his lab, and smiling. “Shifu has been too quiet today, and that can only mean one thing.”

Daniel’s brow furrowed.

Sha’re sighed, looking at him. “Dan’yel, you will have to learn, our child is not a good one. He does not care about our sleep or our nerves.”

“Well, I don’t think babies can,” said Daniel.

“Yes, I know, he doesn’t mean it,” said Sha’re, smiling at Shifu, who lay on his back on the bed drooling and looking up at the ceiling, kicking out with short fat legs. “But it is troubling in any case.”

Daniel nodded, thinking to himself.

“Do you know this one thing, Dan’yel?” Sha’re asked, her tone brighter as she looked up at him.  He saw her eyes dance and started to worry. “You have missed a month of taking your turn with both colic and diapers. I shall be watching with peace as you make it up.”

Daniel paused, uncertain and not quite happy with that idea. But then he looked at Sha’re, looked at his son, and nodded. It was worth the sacrifices.

ooooooo

With the day nearly done, only one loose end remained for Sam and Jolinar. Jolinar easily matched Martouf’s broad smile as he waited with a blanket by the rings, ready to take them up to the surface.

Sam had been a part of this ritual a few times now, but tonight felt different. They had brought some food to eat together as the sun dipped behind the horizon, the sand a sea around them. It wasn’t just the warmth that somehow Sam had come to tolerate, but something deeper. She wasn’t just an outsider, someone off in the mental distance. When Jolinar looked up into Martouf or Lantash’s face, Sam was there.

“Life has not been smooth for you recently, beloved,” Lantash said quietly, one arm resting loosely around Jolinar’s waist as she leaned against him, both of them staring out into the oncoming night.

“Hm,” was all Jolinar acknowledged.

“Everywhere you turn, a new surprise mission,” Lantash continued to comment. Jolinar’s brow barely furrowed, but he wasn’t looking down at her. “Each more difficult.”

Jolinar said nothing, and Lantash turned his head to look down at her. “Do you think it will end?”

“There is no one so continually downtrodden as that, my love,” she chided lightly, seriously, looking back up into his eyes. Both the golden sunset and the soft glow of emotion colored his eyes into something soft and beautiful to her.

“So it is just poor luck, all that has happened to you?”

Then Jolinar found it hard to meet his gaze. It was easy to be straightforward to the Council, hide the truth that wouldn’t matter after this mission. But not to Lantash. Not to Martouf. Jolinar was another, better, person with them. So she tried to hold their gaze, and didn’t answer.

Lantash’s eyes tightened infinitesimally, but he said nothing either. His arm pulled her a little tighter to him, and only after a minute did he say quietly, “Even Martouf will admit that it seems unfair.”

Jolinar wanted to come back as she always did, say that fairness didn’t matter, that there really was no such thing in life, especially not with her. But as Sam perhaps felt more keenly, at the moment the universe did feel unfairly against them. Perhaps they’d goaded it, chosen this path. But not all of it.

Sam felt the pain of loss, even as Martouf and Lantash were so close. She was reminded just how this tore at this marriage, and that knowledge hurt almost more than the deep longing that Jolinar couldn’t hide. That even Sam felt, in this moment.

The night was almost on them, the warmth almost gone from the air. Martouf was in control again, and he turned, ready for the soft goodnight kiss as always.

Sam swallowed, and felt and thought all in an instant, and there was no wait time for Jolinar. Looking up into the eyes of her beloved mate, she felt the new limits, and was eager in her gratitude.

“Tonight is different,” she whispered. She reached up a hand to Martouf’s neck, and caught sight of the intensifying glow in his eyes as she pulled him in for a much deeper kiss than planned.

The control was still tight, as it had to be, but after all these weeks it felt like letting go of everything. Jolinar opened herself to them with the kiss, body and mind, and Martouf answered, pulling her tightly to him, his mouth reaching for hers.

She wound her arms around him, feeling the muscles beneath his tunic with indulgent pleasure, letting each touch of his linger. His fingers ran soft circles on her back, gentle enough not to ignite completely the fire that threatened. They had permission, but it was not full yet.

Sam let herself float along, as she had no other choice. And most of her understood, if anything could be understood in this haze of primal emotions and barely-held control, that she didn’t really want another choice.

Even so, the control still won out in the end. Jolinar broke for breath, Lantash now in control almost not wanting to let her. She took a deep breath, then leaned into him, letting out her breath as a signal that this was as far as they could go. His arms loosened somewhat around her, as he let out his own sigh, satisfaction and yearning both entwined in it.

It was soon late, and they lay back on the blanket side by side, staring up at the stars. Martouf put out his arm, and Jolinar rested her head on it, her hands folded across her chest. She had never quite lost Sam, not tonight, but now she fell back into the pool of thought they both shared. It was late, and their mission began tomorrow.

They fell asleep with the stars as witnesses, close but not close enough.

ooooooo

“I noticed you didn’t stop to ask me if I needed a carpool, now that you live on base,” said McKay as he passed Daniel in the hall next morning.

“I thought you were okay to drive,” said Daniel. “Didn’t Frasier and Brymon clear you?”

“Yes, but we hadn’t arranged that,” McKay said.

“Sorry,” said Daniel. “I was a bit busy.”

“Yes, about that,” McKay said. “You’re not going to let this whole family thing distract you too much, are you?”

Daniel blinked. “You mean apart from the given? Well, things are a bit chaotic now, but I don’t think that will last. I hope it doesn’t last.”

McKay nodded, taking the next turn on his way to his lab. Daniel’s brow furrowed as he realized that, despite McKay’s backwards priorities, he had a point. His life hadn’t been busy before—it was essentially the SGC.

The thought vanished as he neared his lab and heard the phone ringing. Careful not to spill coffee from his mug, he hurried in, picking it up one with one hand. “This is Dr. Jackson.”  
_  
“Dr. Daniel Jackson, I presume?”  
_  
“Oh,” said Daniel, surprised. “Jean Miller, right? And yes, you have the right number.”  
_  
“I did tell you I’d call back.”_

“Yes, I know,” said Daniel. “I get a little scatterbrained when things are hectic, that’s all.”  
_  
“Oh. I was going to tell you that Kaleb and I will be in the area tomorrow, and we wanted the tour you promised. But if it’s a bad time...”  
_  
“Oh no, it’s not that,” said Daniel. “My wife came back, with our son, and it’s...well, it’s complicated.”  
_  
“Classified complicated or normal complicated?”  
_  
“The former,” Daniel said with a sigh. “Anyways, so you’ll be stopping by then?”  
_  
“Yes, and I’ll tell you, our expectations are high.”  
_  
“I’d say not high enough, but I don’t want to scare you off,” said Daniel. “We’ll be expecting you, then. I’ll make sure NORAD knows.”

Jean said goodbye, and Daniel hung up the phone.

“Who’s coming through NORAD?” McKay asked, suddenly at Daniel’s door.

“A new scientist,” Daniel said, remembering who she was in relation to McKay just at that moment. “What are you doing here?”

“And you’re in contact?” McKay asked skeptically.

Daniel paused for a second, wondering how to tell him. Then, he smiled inwardly, and knew what he wanted to do. “Would you prefer being the one to give them the tour?”

McKay hesitated. “I don’t do tours.”

“I don’t either,” said Daniel with a shrug. “But you’re the leader of the division she’s interested in, so...I guess I could get Tobias to do it, since it was her recruit.”

“No, I can handle it,” said McKay swiftly. “Tomorrow, right?”

Daniel nodded. “McKay, what are you doing here in the first place?”

McKay paused, looked past Daniel as he seemed to be trying to grab a stray thought. “Oh—just, make sure you check your memos, even if you aren’t spending as much time in your lab. I do not need more of a time lag than is already there.”

“You don’t send me memos,” said Daniel.

“No, but I’m waiting in the briefing room having to waste my time because you didn’t get the General’s,” said McKay.

Daniel half-snorted and looked over his glasses.

“When I’m on time, yes, don’t give me that look,” McKay muttered, glaring a bit as he turned to leave.

Daniel went back to his work, deciding just how much of McKay’s bluster was denial in this case. Probably not much, he concluded, but there might have been a hint of disappointment. Daniel figured that his odd companionship with McKay was partly because they had allied in the face of military pressure, sharing the same passion and workaholic bachelor actions. Losing a piece of that might be affecting McKay.

But even more interesting, where the scientist was concerned, was that Daniel had set him up to meet his sister unawares tomorrow. And Daniel was sure to be there for that meeting.

ooooooo

Dorieth waited for Sam and Jolinar, and it did not notice the change. In it for the long haul now, they relaxed just a little on the procedures. No need to absorb everything that was going on in every moment; the cover was more important, and that called for ease and confidence.

Sam needed to lay out the facets clearly to herself, and Jolinar didn’t object to the clarity. Discover more of Quetesh’s plan. Set in motion a counter plan. That was simple enough, but further down, there were the temple and the Abydonians and the Jaffa.

Jolinar watched as the slaves still worked in the fields. Once muddy and drab, the plains now grew lush and rich. The paths and improved irrigation ditches had come together slowly, as everything seemed to do when limited to manual labor. Sam wondered if a Goa’uld would ever grow weary of hiding technology and just use it, no “magic of the gods” excuse.

Jolinar herself inspected the quality of the paving stones, as the road itself expanded ever further. The quarry that provided them, a type of shale as far as Sam could label it, had produced good quality material for the first part of the road. However, the farther the road reached, the more Jolinar noticed a crumbling quality to some of the stones. She put on a facade of disapproval, and used it to get a tour of the quarry itself.

“These tools are deficient,” Jolinar stated, and as Coron she only touched them with distaste. “How long since they were properly sharpened?”

Rodon, her Jaffa delegate for this aspect on this planet, sent a sharp glare to one of the slaves, who stumbled to answer. “Too long, my lord. They were not intended for this kind of work.”

“Rodon, I trust you to have that mended before I notice the quality shift again,” Jolinar finished, speaking without looking the Jaffa in the eye.

His sun-browned face darkened with worry as Jolinar caught his look out of the corner of his eye. Jolinar did care about the workmanship, but it was still an exaggeration. And Sam’s thoughts started spinning again.  
_  
*I feel only thoughtfulness—what is it?*_

_~Just thinking about things way far off in the plan. How are we going to defeat Quetesh eventually?~_

_*Ah, the simple questions.*_

_~And? We can’t do it alone, can we?~_

_*The usual way would call for some infiltration and using her power against her, but balanced with a limited rebellion among her slaves. We do not use such drastic measures as these often, though.*  
_  
Jolinar led them up to the temple, her own thoughts taking all Sam’s speculations and running with them, not paying so much attention to where Sam’s thoughts were headed now.  
_  
~So, I take it we can’t be part of that?~_ Sam queried after a moment. _~I mean, provoking the riot.~_

_*No, we are the infiltration, manipulating the power structure to suit our needs.*_

_~I’m just thinking though,~_ Sam continued, and Jolinar took a breath and left her thoughts on the temple._ ~Teal’c. He was first prime, he had position and respect, and by throwing that all away he did gain some followers.~_

_*But not all, I see,* _said Jolinar, both feeling and knowing from Sam’s memories. _*It would be dangerous for us as well as the movement. Better to have an instigator from among the lower ranks.*_

_~I just don’t know about that,~_ said Sam. _~It’s going to be tough to gain respect that way. If we, proving ourselves Quetesh’s loyal follower over many weeks, start sowing doubt, it will sink in before they know what they’re thinking.~_

_*And if they suspect, there may be another coup. We are not trained to handle something so delicate, and it is not worth the risk.*  
_  
Sam wasn’t sure what Jolinar was overlooking, but she felt that it was there. Even so, she couldn’t counter that statement, and so she let the thoughts simmer in the back of her mind, hoping the one she was trying to grasp onto would float to the top.

Jolinar frowned as she walked the perimeter of the temple. More pieces were in place, filling out the design that was only obviously complex upon close inspection. Instead of each section being fully completed at once, the basic structure for it all had been assembled, followed by the sub-sections, and so forth. Now it seemed almost all but the minor details were remaining. It was still another couple weeks out to completion, but Jolinar worried what that day would bring.

Her mind shifted back to the other projects on this planet, for a moment overviewing them for any obvious connection. Were the crops and naquadah mining really just to support the temple and its workers? Was it just a conglomeration that seemed to work?  
_  
~Is there a traditional structure to Goa’uld home-worlds?~_ Sam asked.

Jolinar answered negatively. In fact, as Sam saw from her thoughts, the idea of a home-world was not necessarily universal.

They walked down the temple steps, soaking up the sun after their recent days in the Tok’ra underground. The light was meant to provide the same health of sun, but synthetic always lacked something according to Jolinar. Sam wasn’t intellectually sure...but feeling the heat of the sun on their skin, the bright golden color that it granted to everything around them. There was definitely benefit in that.

Passing through the village, Sam noticed one of the Abydonian women, and wondered just how they would manage to rescue them from the crowd in the end. Especially as Kasuf still refused to believe their story. And then, in that moment, her thoughts fit together.  
_  
~Jolinar, we don’t just have to be infiltrators. Or rather, we can take that one step further.~_

_*Hmm?*_

_~Eventually, we let a few of the Abydonians in on the plan. They can start the thoughts of rebellion, but under our direction. And maybe—Bra’tac. Teal’c’s old master, I think, but definitely a leader among the Jaffa rebellion. We work with him, he can deal with the Jaffa.~_

_*Why would we deal with the Jaffa? You keep mentioning this, but it is not our way.*_

_~Because they’d be powerful allies, if convinced. You’re working toward the same thing they want, freedom. Even if we just had a couple...~_

Jolinar paused, looking around the settlement. Sam’s thoughts affected what she saw, and the Jaffa shifted from dangerous tools to slaves, just of a higher importance. She frowned, looking for a way to grasp fully onto this thought.  
_  
*We do not need a full Jaffa rebellion. It would be worse than Quetesh’s actions.*_

_~So we talk to them, ally with them. Bra’tac knew me and would probably speak to me, even if no one else. But we explain that the Tok’ra plan is long-term, and I think he has the power to get them to cooperate. We can work together.~_

_*For this one mission, or forever? The Jaffa are not trustworthy allies.*_

_~Maybe not now, but you haven’t seen what they will do for freedom. And giving trust is a good way to get it, remember? This one mission would be a big step for them in any case. If it’s completed, and Quetesh’s Jaffa are freed, that would be enough to keep them occupied for some time.~_

Jolinar’s frown deepened, but the less negative thoughts couldn’t be hidden from Sam. So she waited, letting it sink in.  
_  
*You would risk all this?*_

_~Isolation only works so far. The Jaffa can do things that the Tok’ra can’t. There are so many reasons why this would work, Jolinar.~_

_*It is true that you have some experience in this, but it is also true that your mindset is not entirely in line with most of the Tok’ra. It will be work to convince them.*  
_  
Sam paused before asking. _~Have I convinced you?~  
_  
Jolinar’s mood was hesitant, but things were going well, and so it was also open.  
_  
~Well, in any case, we can let it sit for a while.~  
_  
Jolinar nodded, and continued with Coron’s duties on Dorieth.

That night, lying in their bed, preparing for the sleep that they still pretended was kel’no’reem, exhaustion did not overtake them as it had on their other nights on this planet. Jolinar cleared her mind methodically, and Sam followed suit, until there was nothing in the way.

And they were at peace. On a dangerous covert mission, with no solid plan for success, they had their first night of truly peaceful rest. Jolinar was content with leaving it at that, but Sam savored the moment, just a little. It had been a while, and she was glad to have it back. With that thought, Jolinar couldn’t help but agree, and they ended up drifting off to sleep together.


	21. Known Strangers

“So why were you involved with this?” McKay asked Daniel, on his way up to escort Jean and Kaleb Miller down. The astrophysicist had not been told the name of who he was going to meet, and given his slightly anti-social nature, it was not surprising that he hadn’t asked.

“Tobias saw her work and thought it was good, but she resisted the military’s advance,” Daniel said. McKay gave a shrug of grudging respect for that. “She asked that I step in and mediate.”

“I find it hard to believe anyone’s worth that much effort,” said McKay as the elevator rose floor by floor.

Daniel shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t know for sure.”

“Exactly. Which is why you weren’t the best one for the role.”

“Well, of the other civilians, who do you think would have done better? You?”

McKay gave a non-answer of acquiescence, and Daniel smiled to himself. On good days, this light banter was enjoyable. And reminiscent of his conversation with Jean, actually. He wondered what the two of them together would produce.

They arrived at the top.

“Why are you here, exactly?” McKay asked.

“Just for the introduction,” said Daniel, and that was straddling the line between truth and fiction a little more than any other part of this prank. He had a feeling it’d be worth it.

McKay stood, looking bored and slightly fidgety. Daniel noticed the Millers coming from a ways off, but he didn’t point McKay in that direction. They were only fifteen feet away when Jean called.

“Ah, Dr. Jackson, there you are. I was hoping this was the right place.”

“Call me Daniel,” Daniel opened, as McKay spun around at the sound of the voice.

Jean froze. “Meredith?” she choked.

Daniel was confused. McKay was flustered. “Jeannie?” He turned to Daniel, incensed. “You recruited my sister?”

“Is your name Meredith?” asked Daniel, brow furrowed.

He winced. “Meredith Rodney McKay, but I prefer Rodney, and that’s not the point.”

“Did he put you up to this?” Jean demanded, looking at Daniel.

“No,” Daniel answered truthfully, looking her in the eye and pulling off a mostly-innocent look.

“Okay, this is just strange,” Jean said, with a tense chuckle. She wore her hair down, curled around her shoulders, and she pushed it aside and took a deep breath. “You didn’t recognize the name?” she asked McKay.

“I never heard it,” McKay protested. “I had no idea until yesterday, and—you’re an actual scientist?”

Daniel smirked. The blunt subject change was very McKay.

“Yes, Rodney,” Jean said, rolling her eyes at the obviousness of the answer. “Far from what you think, I didn’t just give it all up.”

Daniel, not knowing exactly why McKay and his sister had a supposedly conflicted relationship, glanced at Kaleb now. He was standing almost unnoticed in the background, a great feat given his height. His calm hadn’t wavered, though, so Daniel presumed that despite the bickering these two were safe to be around each other.

“Well, I didn’t think you would stoop to government work,” McKay commented, crossing his arms over his chest. “Isn’t that a taboo of yours?”

“First of all, I haven’t agreed to work here,” Jean said, gesturing with one hand while the other planted itself on her hip. “Because—which is secondly—the only thing I know is that Dr. Jackson was very convincing. I don’t even know what goes on here.”

“Oh,” said McKay, his crossed arms relaxing slightly in surprise. “Really?” The sarcastic mask faded completely, leaving only a slight eagerness to share the wonders he’d seen.

Daniel ducked his head for a second to hide the grin.

“Yes, Mer, that’s why I’m here,” said Jean with a sigh.

“Are we ready to start the tour?” Daniel asked, judging it safe to jump into the conversation.

“Yes, please,” said Jean, making herself brighten up and look past McKay to Daniel.

“It’s a good thing you weren’t told anything, because you would _not_ believe this,” McKay commented as they entered the elevator. The eagerness was mixed with just a slight overtone of smugness.

“Mer, shut up please,” said Jean curtly.

“Rodney,” said McKay through clenched teeth.

“Down to level 28 then,” said Daniel brightly. He glanced at Kaleb over the siblings’ heads, and saw a smirk on the man’s face. As he’d guessed, there wasn’t anything too deep beneath the superficial sharp banter—it was more a social ritual than anything real. And he didn’t feel too guilty for enjoying McKay in this flustered state.

ooooooo

The hours turned into days on Dorieth, and Sam only realized she cared about keeping track when Jolinar did not. They would stay until the job was done, not for an arbitrary amount of time. Still, Sam was bound by time, and so even Jolinar’s deep-rooted ways of thinking were slightly dislodged until she gave in.

In the month since they had first arrived on this world, the weather had consistently grown hotter, and Sam and Jolinar had noticed it consistently less. Sam was glad for a symbiote who was more used to heated temperatures, even if it didn’t fully compensate. The planet also started into its dryer stage, though, as much as that could be on such a humid world, and everyone appreciated it.

No word from other worlds, and no more Jaffa or slave transfers, had taken place in the last couple days since they’d been on the planet. Still, every time Jolinar glanced up from where the paving stones were being slid into place on the road, tiny figures were more than likely moving up or down the road that bridged the stargate and the village.

Sam wondered when Quetesh would send word or check up in person, though Jolinar’s first thought was that the latter was unlikely. It was only an idle thought, and distracted from their cover. But it struck them as foreboding when only hours later, the gate activated unexpectedly.

One of the Jaffa glanced up and drew Sam and Jolinar’s attention to it, and Sam frowned. The sun was particularly glaring, and even squinting Sam couldn’t see anything, so she ignored it and turned back to the road.

Behind her, only a few minutes later, she heard the slide of dirt and stones, and looked to see a slave half running, half slipping, down the hill. “My lord!” he called before he was close enough. As soon as he was, he stooped a little, saying through heaving breaths: “My lord, a servant of the gods, to speak with you.”  
_  
*Goa’uld?*_ Jolinar questioned, sharp in her surprise.

“Name?” Sam questioned aloud, impassively.

“He would not speak to your Jaffa at the gate,” the young slave said, seemingly resisting with effort the desire to rest his arms on his knees as he bent forward.

“Then bring him to me, I have no time for meaningless distractions,” said Sam, waving him off with her hand._ ~So, this is curious, right?~_

*Interesting, to say the least.*

~Why would one of Quetesh’s lieutenants come here, and not to her flagship?~

*You’re assuming it is one of Quetesh’s. Any System Lord might have sent a servant, perhaps to issue challenge, perhaps to beg for alliance.*  
  
A near mishap with one of the gravel carts caught their attention, and their near-snap of an admonition was only half act. Jolinar apologized for the hint of temper that had leaked through into Sam, although Sam wasn’t sure that it wasn’t her. They remembered the approaching Goa’uld only when more footsteps were heard.

Sam spun around, erect and skeptical, and looked straight up into the eyes of Lantash.

Jolinar froze inwardly as Sam did outwardly. Her eyes briefly glanced down, taking in the close-cut green silk robes and minimalist gold adornment, and then looked back up to his face to confirm. She must have been mistaken—but no, Jolinar’s reaction was all she needed. That really was Lantash, glint in his eyes and a firm set to his mouth.

Sam felt only emotionally overwhelmed when she connected with Jolinar, and so she tried to draw herself out as much as possible, focusing on the situation. “What brings you to Dorieth,” she half-demanded of Lantash, a slight frown on her face.

“That is business between myself and your lord,” Lantash answered smoothly, looking down straight into her eyes. “Am I to assume that you are the Commander Coron I seek?”

“Yes,” answered Sam, finding it difficult to concentrate on what he was saying. He had always looked well in Tok’ra garb, but he wore both the garb and the personality of a Goa’uld with a smoldering intensity that Sam could almost feel. _~Jolinar?~_ The symbiote certainly had it worse off, and only Sam’s busy thoughts kept her from noticing exactly what scenarios were running through Jolinar’s mind.

“Then I believe I have taken enough haphazard handling at your hands,” Lantash said, settling back on his heels with a slight look of disgust. “Do you have any concept of the idea of respect, or will you keep me standing in this climate?”  
_  
~God, he needs to wear green more often,~_ Sam’s thought ran away with her. Then, giving herself a mental shake, she turned to a subordinate. “Keep your eye on this!” she ordered, then turned back to Lantash with a firm look. “I will hear your request at my lord’s temple, but I owe you no respect until I know your connection to her.”

Lantash said nothing, only flashed his eyes in a look that was both intimidating and teasing. Sam knew that the melting feeling, and the flush coming to her face, was not just from Jolinar. Realizing exactly who she was starting to fantasize about, she hoped that Jolinar was still too distracted to make the same connection, and she turned to lead the way up the hill. What really mattered was—why was he here? How?

It didn’t seem to take as long as usual to get up to the temple. Jolinar, caught off guard by her mate in all his glory, only then started to descend from a cloud of distracted lust enough to realize that Sam had been trying to keep all the pieces together. _*I beg pardon.*_

~No, I understand,~ was all that Sam answered. And thankfully Jolinar didn’t seem to realize that it wasn’t just imagined sympathy, but something much closer and fresher, even if to a lesser extent.

At the top of the steps, Sam ordered the Jaffa guards in the main court to take up position outside, leaving her with Lantash for a more private audience. As soon as all Jaffa and slaves were out of the way, she turned and hissed to him: “What the hell?”

“Have I disrupted your plans?” Lantash asked, almost cheeky, but the hint of a frown on his face. His voice, low in the wide shady court, did not carry far.

“What are you doing here?” Sam pressed, wanting to get straight to the point. Any longer with this teasing, and she’d fall back into shallower thoughts—especially with Jolinar’s thoughts still striving to climb out of the gutter.

His face was all seriousness. “We had a thought, Martouf and I, and we spoke to Council once you were gone. We did not think you would be able to establish yourself with enough speed, and even then you might not have the correct access. We offered ourselves to try to gain a closer look at Quetesh’s court, at her plans.”  
_  
*A spy?*_ Jolinar wondered, her mind now completely on Sam’s level. _*But they have not done so for many, many years.*  
_  
“And?” Sam asked, not knowing what else.

“And,” Lantash said, moving his tall frame a little closer to them, almost towering. “And we found that Coron was not only well-established, but had been so for quite some time.” He enunciated the last few words, the buzz of the symbiote voice adding even more weight. “Quite.” His look was grave.  
_  
~They guessed,~_ Sam said.  
_  
*And now they know. I should have foreseen this. Here, let me carry on.*  
_  
Despite the fact that she could not change her voice to be less like Sam’s, both of them knew that Lantash could tell the difference as soon as Jolinar took control. “Do you consider your purpose complete, then?” she asked.

“Not in the least,” said Lantash, moving even closer to her. “Jolinar, there was never a lead. You had this revenge plot planned from the moment Samantha reminded you of Quetesh.”

“So I did, to some extent,” Jolinar said, looking him directly in the eye to keep her eyes from wandering to the flattering cut of his robes. She could be professional, it was just difficult when caught off guard by the one person who could instantly spark heated sensations in her.

“And you thought deception was the way to deal with this?” Lantash pushed. Jolinar saw the glint in his eyes, the near-glow of strong emotion. He was angry with her, frustrated and disappointed.

“Samantha and I made a promise, not only to each other,” said Jolinar. “And we hold that higher than anything else.”

“But the Tok’ra do not, and as you are not disowning them,” he trailed off, but the sharpness in his tone suggested an unspoken ‘yet’.

“They would not have known,” said Jolinar. “And they approved the mission, so there would be no harm.”

“You can’t live like this,” Lantash protested, reaching out to grip her shoulder. His touch was distracting, but Jolinar kept her gaze tightly on matching his. “Lies only provide good results for a time, and even then there is damage. This is yet another secret you were to keep from us. For how long?”

“Until all was finished,” Jolinar said. She glanced around, making sure that they were still alone. “Lantash, you would not have approved, and in doing so you would have broken Sha’re’s heart, and Samantha’s along with it, and I could not have remained whole with that. After all that is happened, you would have had me do that to her?”

Lantash frowned, but there was no tenseness in his answer. “Did you think of another way? Or did you leap for the easy route, even though it was deception?”

Jolinar didn’t answer. Her eyes darted down for a second as she did not know what to say next._ *We knew it was a mistake all along, did we not?*_

~In some way, yes. But we could justify it. I—I don’t know if that was truly good enough for either of us, though.~  
  
“Either way was fraught with pain,” Jolinar finally answered, no defense in her tone as she looked back up into Lantash’s eyes. “We were not blind to that.”

He nodded briefly, with a short sigh. His hand on her shoulder loosened, stroking instead of gripping. “We did not come to fight,” he said, “but to help.”

“So you will continue with the mission?” Jolinar asked. Both she and Sam assumed that it had been a ruse to be able to confront them.

Lantash nodded. “Despite ulterior motives, Martouf would not have agreed to this had we not had purer ones underneath. And as usual, I could not deny his reasoning.”

“So you will attempt to infiltrate Quetesh’s court,” Jolinar clarified, her hands unclenching from her side as she crossed her arms loosely across her chest armor.

“It has been a long time since I took on such a role—I believe it will be worth it,” Lantash answered.

“You most certainly look the part,” Jolinar said, a small smile as she looked him up and down one last time. She didn’t seem to notice that she was not the only one to find him more than attractive with this look.

Lantash leaned in, matching her look. “I’d say that your approval was the only one I wished for, but you understand that duty calls for more...”

“I think you will find success comes easily,” Jolinar said, with a last nod. She licked her lips, glancing back. But she couldn’t afford a kiss, not when so much depended on these guises. So she bit down her desire, leaving it smoldering in her eyes.

“Then all is settled,” said Lantash comfortably. “And all the Tok’ra will know is that they have two operatives deep in the field.”

Jolinar shook her head, thinking of the complications, and how unlikely this all was to happen in this way. Then she sighed and nodded once. “What are you calling yourself?”

“Tirnin,” Lantash said.

“Then Tirnin,” Jolinar said, stepping back and lifting her chin, her voice cooling as she became Coron. “I believe my lord would wish to speak with you. You will be directed to her court.”

Lantash was as Tirnin once again, the wicked gleam in his eyes matched only by the firm resolve on his face. “Then I will congratulate Quetesh on the efficiency of her servants.”

And neither Sam nor Jolinar could fully understand what this all meant at the moment. All they knew for sure was, it felt good to have someone close who knew almost all. And—Martouf and Lantash had never been so attractive before.

ooooooo

“This is insane,” Jean repeated, taking a seat in the mess hall just in case she fainted. They’d come full circle back to Level 28, only to have Jean need to withdraw.

“Rodney, she needs something to eat,” said Kaleb, sitting by his wife and putting a hand on her shoulder.

To Daniel’s surprise, McKay went straight off to get something. He wondered if it was because, unlike his wife, Kaleb hadn’t called the scientist Meredith. Meredith Rodney McKay. Daniel wasn’t sure he’d get over that any time soon.

Jean rested her head in her hand until McKay came back, a bowl of blue jello in his hand. “Blue, Mer?” she asked skeptically.

“Oh what, you don’t like it?” he asked.

“It’s fine,” she muttered, taking a bite and swallowing. She breathed out again.

“Sorry about that,” Daniel said, sitting next to Kaleb at the table. “It’s a bit overwhelming.”

“Overwhelming?” Jean asked, a lot of emotion in that one word. “Earth is almost destroyed on a regular basis by aliens, what should I be feeling?” 

“Not regular,” said McKay, a slight weariness in his tone.

“It’s mostly about exploring peaceful worlds,” Daniel agreed.

“You’re both insane,” Jean said firmly. “All of you here, actually. I mean, you have all this technology, and you still go out looking for danger—there’s enough here to last you all several lifetimes already.”

“Maybe,” said McKay reluctantly, sharing a glance with Daniel.

“But it’s not just about us, it’s about the generations to come,” said Daniel, still persuasive.

Jean half-laughed through a mouthful of jello. “Just be glad you only have to explain that to me, not the billions of people this is a secret to.”

“What does that mean?” asked McKay.

She swallowed the jello and took a deep breath and let it out before speaking. “Oh, just that I’m more easily swayed by the amazing science than the average rational person. This place is just—it leaves me speechless.” She gestured vaguely with her hand.

“Glad you came?” asked McKay, a little smug. Daniel noticed he’d forgotten that he’d been against her arrival only a few hours before.

“Maybe,” she said carefully. She glanced down at her jello. “You know, Rodney, this stuff isn’t too bad.”

Daniel smiled to himself. Not only had she used McKay’s name, which was probably a good sign, but he saw her defenses waver.

“So, you have a family here?” Jean asked, changing the subject slightly. “How does that work, exactly, if you’re locked up in a mountain doing things you can’t talk about?”

Oh yes, she was almost ready to sign up. Daniel was just about ready to claim this recruit as a success.

ooooooo

Jolinar fell asleep before Sam that night, and Sam breathed out in relief. They’d gone over the surprising events of the day, trying to make it fit into their plan. Martouf and Lantash had surprised them, in more ways than one, and the extra support needed a little to get used to. But that part was pretty easy in the end—in fact, it was good.

What Jolinar didn’t seem to notice was what Sam tried not to think of. That was the goal of course, but Sam was surprised she’d succeeded. It was the first time since the blending that she realized it might be more complicated than she thought. It wasn’t the lack of privacy—and yet it was.

Jolinar’s feelings for Martouf and Lantash had been powerful on first sight, but Sam hadn’t been without an instant reaction of her own. Physical, but also emotional. How had it happened so fast? How did she care this much that her heart almost fluttered when they looked down at her with those eyes? This was Jolinar’s mate she was talking about, someone who was supposed to share Jolinar only with the one who would be bound to her for life.

And that wasn’t Sam, not really. She wasn’t going to be around that long, and so she had no claim on them, despite being so close to Jolinar. Sam now realized how that fact would probably hurt her. She was falling in love, unintentionally, and it had been slow in coming but sure in the end. She didn’t know how to stop it—and her heart was telling her she didn’t want to.

But her mind kept telling her that it was unfair to Jolinar, unfair to Martouf and Lantash, to intrude like this. She shouldn’t allow herself to do this to any of them. If she could just bury her feelings, avoid thinking those thoughts, the mission would be over soon enough. She hoped. And Jolinar need never know that Sam had accidentally committed herself too much.


	22. Worklife

Daniel wasn’t surprised when a package arrived at the SGC containing Jean and Kaleb Miller’s application for full security clearance. Following was a short email, saying that Jean was willing to try out work there, for a year at least. Then she’d see.

McKay didn’t take it as well as Daniel. He looked uncomfortable at the thought of actually working with his sister as an equal. Jack snorted when he heard about it, and told him to get over it. And Clara Dixon, who had stopped by the base that day, declared that this called for another team night out. Another barbecue at their house, in honor of the Millers’ arrival, and Sha’re’s and Shifu’s as well.

“I’m the only one who’s still single,” muttered McKay. “Why did I ever join this team?”

“We can try to match you up if you like,” said Clara brightly.

“No, I don’t think that’s necessary,” McKay countered quickly.

Knowing that McKay had meant Jack’s former family life too, the conversation reminded Daniel of Jack’s talk with Sara O’Neill. He wondered if, like McKay, Jack was feeling some kind of pull towards family. He also wondered if it would be possible for Teal’c’s family to come to the SGC, and would Teal’c even want that? But Teal’c didn’t speak of it, and appeared content, so Daniel let it lie.

There was too much else going on in his life anyways. Just as he thought he was getting into a good routine with his wife and son, Shifu had turned into the terror Sha’re insisted he had always been. He stopped sleeping at night, seemingly, and Daniel found himself pacing in the hallways late at night, his nightshirt getting soaked with infant tears, worn beyond belief. Sha’re had no sympathy, which Daniel supposed was reasonable given what she’d endured without him, but slightly irking all the same.

An interesting bit of news rolled around the SGC, about how there had possibly been a rogue group who were using the second Stargate for their own purposes. During the crack-down on security, the gate had been transferred away and discovered to be a plastic replica—the real gate was swiftly found, but there was no evidence on what might have been going on. Daniel thought about how he had almost planned to use the gate to leave Earth, if the SGC was shut down. Now that was impossible, and it was good that he had no reason any more.

A couple days later, Jean and Kaleb came back for a longer visit. Clare Tobias came to thank Daniel personally, eyes alight with excitement, for bringing Dr. Miller into the fold. “She’s brilliant!” Clare said, hands providing emphasis. “And she bugs McKay, so that’s a plus.”

“Are they going to be okay?” Daniel asked.

Clare shrugged. “Well, McKay’s not going to give in and be driven away, and she’s just stubborn enough not to let him do the same to her. I think her curiosity’s definitely peaked; you should have seen her look when she went over Carter’s old gate schematics.”

Daniel nodded. “Good.”

“That being said,” Clare added, leaning against the doorframe. “You might want to figure out a way to get her offworld today. I think McKay needs a little time to adjust.”

“I was going to take Sha’re and Shifu to New Abydos,” said Daniel. “I’m sure I could get the General’s permission for the Millers to come.”

“Just Jean, actually,” said Clare. “Kaleb’s looking into applications at nearby schools. Did you know he’s an English teacher?”

“It’s a shame we don’t have a place for him here,” Daniel commented.

Jean was no anthropologist, and heat made her flush bright red, but New Abydos turned out to be a perfect first start. She’d been surprised when he offered for her to come along, and only really agreed when Sha’re added her approval. Daniel didn’t tell her it was partly to separate her from her brother, who looked thoroughly relieved when he heard the plan.

“So are you and Dr. Jackson going to live on base forever?” Jean asked as they returned from the gate. The Abydonians had been ecstatic over the return of Sha’re, who promptly established that yes, she would be their leader, but Adros would carry her role in her absence. And only until the day when Kasuf returned. Daniel wasn’t sure if she believed that, or just used it for the Abydonians’ benefit.

“I hope not,” Sha’re answered, shifting Shifu in her arms. “This place would be too dangerous for us. But until your government grants me approval, it is not my choice.”

Jean nodded. “I hope to have a family someday, but the hours are killers here, from all I’ve heard. And especially if my family was off-base.”

“Yes, that is a benefit now,” said Sha’re, turning to grin at Daniel. “I may steal my husband whenever I need him.”

“Mostly,” Daniel said.

ooooooo

Martouf had made brief contact a day after leaving the planet, just long enough to tell Jolinar that his mission looked to be successful. Taking the opportunity, Jolinar told him about the plan that she and Sam had contrived, about possibly using the Jaffa in the future. There was no time to discuss, but Martouf did not look completely opposed when the conversation ended.

As if knowing what was crossing her mind, that night, they encountered a lone slave far from any other Jaffa on the planet. Jolinar was immediately surprised and suspicious.

“Why are you not in your quarters?” she demanded.  
_  
~It’s an Abydonian,~_ Sam commented, equally surprised.

“Kasuf let us know what you said,” the slave said boldly, almost as an attack.

That in itself was astounding, both that Kasuf had managed to trick his ever-present guards and that this slave would dare be so froward. “What do you speak of?” Jolinar asked with well-played disgust.

“He says you claim to be on our side,” the slave whispered. “He does not believe it, but some of us do.”

Sam and Jolinar were stopped in their tracks, unsure what had just happened or what should happen next. “Your mind has fractured, slave,” Jolinar said. “Return to your place before I have you dealt with!”

The slave only paused a second before darting off into the night.  
_  
~Well, that was a bit conspicuous,~_ said Sam. _~Now he knows for sure that something’s up.~_

*If they believe we’re on their side, they will not report us willingly. It was the only option.*

~Yeah, that happens a lot, unfortunately.~

*We will be fine.*

ooooooo

Daniel never expected that team night would ever be like this. Last time it had been just a visit to the Dixons; now, it was like a family picnic, except it was work. And that was something Daniel would never have considered when first arriving at the SGC.

Clara and Dave’s kids were at a friend’s house that night, but the atmosphere was still communal. Daniel and Sha’re had brought Shifu with them, for they were guests of honor according to Clara with a broad grin, and he was relatively quiet for them that evening. Jean and Kaleb were the other guests, and they arrived shortly before McKay, who came in Teal’c’s vehicle looking a bit stunned. Daniel didn’t know Teal’c knew how to drive, but apparently, despite McKay’s declarations to the contrary, he did.

“Where is Colonel O’Neill?” Teal’c asked, as McKay immediately found the food table. Sha’re, more comfortable lower than higher, sat on a blanket on the grass with Shifu in her lap, and Teal’c joined her in a cross-legged pose. Daniel sat in a higher seat next to Sha’re, and across from him were Jean and Kaleb sharing a double-seat.

“Oh, he said he was bringing a guest, someone who wanted to meet the team,” said Clara, bringing over a couple more chairs to the arrangement in their back lawn. “Knowing him, I didn’t think it was necessary to confirm that they had clearance.”

“Jack has friends?” McKay asked through a mouthful of potato salad. He only ever called him that when he wasn’t around.

Dixon snorted, in disagreement but appreciating McKay’s jab all the same. He lounged in a low seat, hands behind head and shades over his eyes.

“Ah, look, he’s almost on time,” said Clara, glancing over their shoulders.

Daniel turned his head, and was only slightly surprised to recognized the cropped dark-gold hair of Sara Henderson O’Neill.

“Welcome, welcome,” said Clara, wiping her hands on the seat of her jeans as she walked over to greet Sara. “You must be Sara.”

“Sara Henderson, yes,” she answered. She glanced briefly to Jack, and he had already found a seat and was gesturing for her to take it. “I don’t know any of you,” she said, looking around the group, “but Jack and I—we go back.”

“Completely understood, ma’am,” said Dixon genially, sitting up and pulling up his shades to give her a friendly nod.

Sara grinned, nodding to everyone as she took a seat. “Well, Jack, you didn’t say your team was this large.”

“Oh, this is a bit more than the team,” said Jack.

“Here, I’ll do the honors,” said Dixon. “I’m Dixon, probably known to you as ‘snarky jackass’ if Jack’s been talking. This is Clara, my wife, who does not work at the SGC.” He gestured with his hand around the circle. “That’s Jackson, our historical go-to guy and general negotiator. Teal’c is the big guy on the ground, and that’s Sha’re, who’s married to Jackson, and that’s their son Shi-shi.”

“Shifu,” said Sha’re pointedly. Dixon just grinned.

“So you’re the Sha’re he talks about,” said Sara brightly, looking to Sha’re.

“I do not know if I am _the_ Sha’re,” Sha’re said with a friendly smile, pausing to remove the bit of grass from Shifu’s hand. “But I am the only one I know.”

“It’s good to get a face to the name,” said Sara warmly.

Daniel was a bit surprised that Jack had talked about these things at all with Sara, though he supposed they were kind of important in the team’s shared past.

“The guy hogging the food table is Rodney McKay,” said Dixon. McKay barely glanced up, absently waving a hand in welcome.

“Oh yes, I remember him,” said Sara.

Daniel smiled at her tone.

“And we’re not on the team,” Jean offered, Kaleb’s arm across her shoulders, one leg crossed over the other. “But I’m the unfortunate sister of the food hog, and a bit new to the whole Stargate thing in the first place. This is my husband Kaleb, who has pretty much nothing to do with it, except putting up with my exultation.” She glanced up at Kaleb, who smiled and tactfully said nothing, which made her playfully nudge his side with one elbow.

“Quite a group,” said Sara. “Jack made it sound a bit sparser.”

“That’s because he can’t remember half our names anyway,” commented McKay, his back turned to them as he finished serving up a plate of the barbecue food.

“As if you can,” Dixon retorted.

“Suck-up,” Jack commented to his 2IC, a wry twist to his mouth.

“I wasn’t supporting you, I was correcting him,” Dixon answered.

“Sure you weren’t,” Jack answered.

“Sha’re, you’ve barely said a word,” Clara offered, taking a seat next to her husband and inconspicuously taking his sunglasses and storing them in her shirt pocket. “Don’t you know that this party is half for you?”

“I am doing just fine,” Sha’re said, looking up. “Shifu is plenty of entertainment.”

“How old is he?” asked Sara curiously, leaning over in her chair.

“Almost two months,” Sha’re answered. “But it nearly feels like a lifetime.”

“He’s very cute,” said Sara appreciatively. “May I hold him?”

“Please do,” Sha’re answered.

Sara came over, sitting down on the blanket and scooping up Shifu. He was in a diaper and a loose tan t-shirt, with drool all down the front.

“Aw, ain’t you just the sweetest little thing,” Sara crooned, her tone changing.

Daniel glanced to Jack, wondering if this was bringing back painful memories. But he didn’t look more than vaguely interested at all, instead watching as Dixon started wadding up pieces of the napkin Clara had given him with his plate, and prepared to toss them at the obliviously munching McKay.

“How old are your kids, Clara?” Sara asked.

“8, 5, and 2,” Clara said. “Terrors all.”

Sara managed to smile with only a hint of pain in it. “Yeah, I can imagine.”

“Daniel?” Jean asked, a bemused look on her face. “I’m not going to say I was wrong, but this is not what I was expecting from a bunch of people involved in a conspiracy.”

“It is kind of odd, isn’t it?” commented Sara, the thought dawning on her.

“What, that we’ve got families?” Dixon asked, feeling around for his sunglasses with a slight frown, while Clara pretended not to notice.

“I didn’t think that would be possible,” said Jean.

“It’s not easy,” said Dixon emphatically. “I mean, you go to the wilds of other worlds in the day, and then come home to the wilds of kids.”

“But it works,” said Jean, looking thoughtful. “That’s something to be said.”

Daniel nudged Sha’re’s arm with the edge of his bare foot, and she looked up, seeing his smile and answering it. Daniel was starting to like the idea of melding job and family. It was changing the feel of SG-1, but for the better.

The evening wore on, and Kaleb proved to Dixon that even English professors could know how to barbecue hamburgers, and then had an awkward moment of not knowing whether to chuckle or be in awe that Teal’c could barbecue better than Jack. Daniel just watched the antics, while McKay surreptitiously watched everything his sister was saying. And Shifu hardly felt the arms of his mother the whole night, what with Jean and Sara and even Clara all over him.

By the time evening was turning into summer night, Sha’re was tired and nearly falling asleep leaned against Daniel’s chair. Daniel, caught up in a heated but amiable argument over dictionaries with Kaleb and McKay (due to a Scrabble dispute), only noticed when Shifu started to fuss. It was late, and so he said his goodbyes, and took his family home. It was only as Sha’re joined him in bed, settled into his arms and breathed out in a happy but weary sigh, that he realized that home meant the SGC. Work and family were perhaps too closely entwined, but he didn’t mind now.

ooooooo

“Hold yourselves!” Jolinar ordered, descending upon the furious Jaffa with no heat in her voice. “Your conduct is unworthy of our god Quetesh.”

A gravel cart blocked the road, three slaves standing by. One cowered, as a Jaffa stood over him, but the two others looked almost defiant. The Jaffa looked Jolinar in the eye, simmering frustration all over his face.

“These slaves who were not transferred are useless,” he almost spat out. “And it is to the point where they should be executed for sabotage.”

“That is not your call,” said Jolinar coolly. “Neither is it your call to lose your temper; it is poor sign of worth if you cannot control slaves without resorting to such tactics.”

“My lord,” the other Jaffa broke in. “It is only with these slaves, the ones who have not been here a while.”

Jolinar glanced back to the slaves before eyeing the Jaffa. Of course, they were Abydonians. Kasuf might have done his work, sparking this—both the woman and the man barely lowered their eyes from meeting Jolinar’s.

“And you are so inferior to them that they are beyond your leadership?” Jolinar demanded.

The Jaffa said nothing and clenched his jaw.

“If I find that you mistreat them because of your own shortcomings, I swear, it is you who will deal with punishment,” Jolinar said in a low tone, looking them both in the eye. Then she turned and glared at the slaves. “Move this cart,” she said in a low tone. Then, with another turn, she walked past them and down the road.  
_  
~So, they’re starting to revolt now,~_ Sam summed it up with a sigh.  
_  
*And there is yet another reason to add posthumously to our list of reasons not to tell Kasuf.*_

~Yeah, well, best laid plans and all. It could be a start, though. If Martouf and Lantash agree to our plan of slowly recruiting the Jaffa, then we need them to be open to newer ideas. Getting them to treat the Abydonians, and everyone else for that matter, like people and not lower beings—well, it may not be a big influence, but it at least lets us know who we’re dealing with. We’ll need a place to start, and it’s not with the ruthless bullies.~

*As long as we are careful not to lose even a morsel of respect.*

~Yes, yes, it’s delicate. Everything is. What you said—we’ll be fine.~  
  
ooooooo

“Well?” Daniel asked, hands typing on his lab’s computer as the phone was tucked between chin and shoulder.  
_  
“I told you, I can’t get anything out of that tape,”_ McKay’s voice came, the tinniness diluting his annoyance more than Daniel would have expected._ “It’s just that silly language.”_

“It’s like what we found on that planet, though,” said Daniel. “You know, the genetic experimentation.”  
_  
“No, actually, I’d forgotten about the near-death experience that still plagues my existence. Thanks for the reminder, Jackson.”  
_  
“Just think of all the technology that could be there,” Daniel insisted. “You have to help me get Hammond to let SG-1 check it out personally—I don’t trust anyone else to know what to look for. I’ve been poring over Ernest’s records, not to mention the ones from the Alteran planet.”  
_  
“Do I hear heavy breathing?”_

Daniel frowned, pausing. “What?” Then he heard it. He glanced down, having forgotten that Shifu was sleeping in the sling across his chest. “Oh, that’s just Shifu.”  
_  
“You have him in your lab?”_ McKay’s tone was incredulous. _“Jackson, do you want him to catch some ancient virus from one of the artifacts?”  
_  
“There wouldn’t be anything airborne, we make sure of that,” Daniel said, slightly rolling his eyes. “And he’s not touching anything.” In the moment when McKay didn’t have an answer, Daniel did realize that it probably appeared a little odd considering his previous overprotectiveness.  
_  
“I just don’t see the point.”  
_  
“Okay, consider this,” Daniel grasped for a final point. “The room’s entirely closed, from what the MALP can see. No vents, no doors, nothing but the gate. But perfect oxygen levels. Aren’t you the least bit curious about that?”

A sigh hissed across the phone line.

“Thank you, Rodney,” Daniel said, hanging up before the man could change his mind.

ooooooo

“I promise, sir, this circle of symbols that the MALP sent back is in the same language as the people who modified that whole planet,” said Daniel at the briefing the next day. Hammond had been just as skeptical as McKay, even with Jack’s support of finding more of that ‘meaning of life stuff’ like on Ernest’s planet. “It may not look like much, but advanced technology has a way of being surprising.”

It was the last argument needed. The mission was quickly approved due to the extreme lack of danger in the small room that housed the Stargate and this strange circle, and by the time Daniel realized just how excited he was about the prospect of learning more Alteran, it was the next day and the team was getting ready for a mission.

Daniel had just kissed Sha’re and Shifu goodbye as he left the infirmary, Janet having cleared him. As he buckled his utility belts, walking into the team locker room to grab his weapon (which protocol said he should carry no matter what), Dixon said what he was about to think.

“Whole team again, real mission,” Dixon said. “This is good.”

“Well, given our luck, it’ll be an intergalactic waste of time,” said Jack with a slight sight and gesture. “But sure, the upper ranks need reminding on how elegantly we do that.”

McKay gave a Daniel a look, but they said nothing as the team walked to the gate room.

The event horizon kawooshed, and they were through the gate before Daniel had finished thinking just how amazing it was to go through with no overarching agenda.

The other gate led them into nothing particularly exciting. Just as the MALP had revealed, the room was small and had no exits. They all glanced around, wondering if something would happen. Something didn’t.

“So, what grand technology should I be looking for, Jackson?” McKay asked, a hint of Jack in his tone.

“What’s the point of this room?” Dixon asked. “I mean, is it some kind of test for people who come through the gate, that they have to pass to get through to the real planet?”

“Where’s the power coming from?” Daniel murmured. McKay lit up a bit at that, and ventured a few steps. He crossed the circle of symbols in the center of the floor, and they lit with a soft glow.

“Oh, that’s something,” McKay said, leaning down.

Jack slightly rolled his eyes, walking a few steps and kicking at the edge of the circle with his foot. “You sure?”

There was a clicking sound, and they all glanced up. Out of the smooth wall, a rounded console popped for.

“Whoa!” Jack said, now just as interested as the rest of them.

“Let me see what exactly this says,” Daniel said, kneeling down by the circle. Perhaps it explained what this all meant if he could read between the lines. Or just read the lines—he wasn’t that comfortable with this language yet.

McKay, no longer interested in the way the floor lit up, was much more curious about this console. Teal’c walked to it first, though, and glanced into it the face-shaped opening at its front.

“Hey, watch it!” McKay said. Then, after barely a pause, “What do you see?”

“Blackness,” Teal’c said, one eyebrow raised unimpressed. “And colored lights.”

“Not a password input device, then,” McKay muttered, one theory apparently squashed.

 “A light show?” Jack asked, stepping beside Teal’c. Daniel glanced back to see him frown and, like a child finding something shiny, stick his face right up next to it.

“Holy shit!” shouted Dixon a moment later, and Daniel’s eyes flew back to see that the console had reached out of the wall and gripped onto Jack’s head.

Suddenly Daniel remembered that they were SG-1, and intergalactic wastes of time weren’t their thing. The console had just come out of nowhere, huge and black, but its design was definitely Alteran and not Goa’uld. Jack struggled in its grip as lights flashed brightly from the gaps around his face, but none of them dared to do anything, only partly because they had no idea what to do.

It was only a few moments, and then suddenly it let go, and Jack fell to the floor with a thud.

“Dial the gate, McKay,” Dixon snapped, stooping to scoop up Jack. Teal’c got the Colonel’s other side, and Daniel glanced around the room for something else that might be about to attack.

They hadn’t done anything, right? It had just attacked out of nowhere, like a living thing, but it was obviously tech. Whatever the case, Jack wasn’t moving. McKay had the gate dialed in a few seconds, and the gateroom beckoned.

“Med team!” Dixon called, as he and Teal’c carried the unconscious Jack down the ramp and towards the infirmary.

Their first real mission in weeks, and this was what they got. Daniel would have got the irony if he hadn’t been already sick with worry. Janet’s face didn’t help as the team made it to the infirmary.

“Get him into the MRI,” the doctor ordered, brow creased. “And all of you? There’s nothing you can do, so just wait outside.” They wheeled Jack off on a stretcher, as still as if he had never woken this morning, face slack and pale. And the team just stood.

“God, why _Jack_?” Dixon sighed, frustration in his voice and the way he took a seat.

Daniel looked to McKay, who looked just slightly sick. Janet might need help with this one. With a silent nod, the two men left the infirmary, and prepared to gather what information they could. If the worse case scenario was true, Janet would need them.


	23. Steps

Martouf and Lantash first checked in on Dorieth a couple days later, dropping to the planet in a cloaked cargo ship.

“What are the risks of this?” Jolinar asked immediately, as she met them outside the settlement in the dark.

“Nothing extreme,” Martouf said, his voice quiet in the humid evening.

“Your mission?” Jolinar asked next, as they drew out of the way into the dark shelter of a small grove. Even the stars couldn’t see them, if the clouds had been drawn back for the stars to have sight.

Martouf sighed, his stance loosening, and Jolinar realized that it had been a little tense. It was not relaxed now, though, only weary.

Jolinar sighed in answer. “You were not prepared.”

“The mission goes as planned,” said Martouf. “But you are correct, I did not expect the toll.” He grimaced.  
_  
~He isn’t really spy material, I’m thinking?~_ Sam asked, sensing from him a frustration with injustice that only Jolinar’s experience had soothed in Sam.  
_  
*His integrity is more reliant on what he does than who he is, than most Tok’ra operatives. We have had to make ourselves more than the role, simply because the role is—*_

~Yeah, I know that by now.~

“I have already achieved some level of trust,” Martouf continued. “But not enough. It is to be expected, because I can say for a fact now that Quetesh is no fool—but I wonder if we will ever succeed far enough in that area.”

Jolinar shrugged. “As long as you are in a steady position, we may work around any other difficulties.”

“Such is Lantash’s reasoning,” said Martouf with a nod. He sighed, his hands falling to his sides, almost clenching, his gaze dropping slightly. “I have found some of Sha’re’s people.”

Sam perked up, and Jolinar tried not to show that she was very interested in this. As far as Martouf and Lantash knew, she only cared about them due to her friendship with Sha’re. He still hadn’t guessed the rescue mission. “And?” Jolinar asked.

Martouf’s look darkened, and he didn’t look them in the eye. Sam felt unsure for a moment if she wanted to know why. “Even when, or if, Quetesh is eventually defeated, it may be too late for some. Their treatment at the hands of Jaffa is nothing compared to the pleasures Quetesh forces upon them.”

“Too late?” Jolinar asked, as her stomach twisted with the same emotion that gripped Sam.

“I fear that Quetesh knows how to damage the mind too deeply,” Martouf said, barely able to form the words. A burning anger lit his eyes, something that was usually Lantash’s, and his jaw clenched. “At times her flagship seems but a brothel to her perversions.”

Jolinar’s anger broiled, and she nodded sharply. “We must accomplish this mission, Martouf. I have known this for some time.”

“As I do now,” he said, nodding. “I should not have doubted you ever.” He managed a weak smile. “And do not worry, for I can see that you do, Lantash and I will maintain our cover.”

“I had not truly doubted it,” Jolinar said.

With one last glance to make sure that the darkness still covered them, Martouf stooped to plant a quick kiss on Jolinar’s lips, and then the two parted. The ship cloaked and disappeared in the night, and no one saw Sam and Jolinar return to their dwelling.

ooooooo

“It could have been you,” Sha’re whispered, worried for them both when Daniel returned to her side. It seemed like only had a few minutes to contemplate that he had a similar fear, and hold Sha’re close and wish that they all weren’t playing luck too many times.

But when he looked at the clock, it had almost been an hour. Even though Janet’s message told him that Jack was awake and fine, Daniel couldn’t help but say gingerly as he walked to O’Neill’s bedside, “Jack?”

The man groaned, sitting on the edge of the bed, still in his rumpled BDUs.

“His pupils are fine,” said Janet, more to Daniel than Jack, something that always pissed Jack off a little. “As is his pulse, and frankly, everything else. Now that he’s conscious and himself, he’s fine.”

“Yes, ‘he’ is great,” said Jack shortly. “Don’t remember a thing, but that may be great too.”

Daniel breathed out, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. “So it wasn’t a weapon.” He scratched his head. “McKay and I were going over the data, but we can’t figure anything out.”

“Still,” came McKay’s voice. Daniel turned, and saw Dixon and McKay coming in together.

“You found anything yet?” Daniel asked McKay curiously.

“In the ten minutes since you last checked up?” McKay said, one eyebrow rising Teal’cishly. “No.”

“We’re trying to figure out what that thing was,” Daniel explained to Jack. “So far...not so great.”

“Does it matter?” Jack asked, getting off the bed.

Daniel frowned. “Well, yes.”

“Don’t you want to know why it grabbed your head?” Dixon asked, arms crossed as they walked toward the door.

“I am more intrigued by my escape from it,” Teal’c said from behind.

“Yeah, what he said,” McKay added. 

“Can we please just get the briefing over with?” Jack asked, slightly irritated.

So, he didn’t want to talk. McKay shrugged, and Daniel followed them out, knowing that Jack couldn’t keep him from being curious.

ooooooo

“The insubordination is insanity!” hissed Sheryen, one of the Jaffa who patrolled the fields below the temple.

The Abydonians had not fallen into line, and Jolinar and Sam tried slowly to make that less dangerous for them. Sheryen, one of the most volatile, something which had prompted Sam to promote him for her own safety, was the first obstacle.

“As is my continual tolerance of your behavior,” Sam answered, letting one eye glare at him. They stood alone, a few steps off from the nearest path, the Abydonians he had been ready to strike already back at their work by her command. “You do not seem to understand that it would take time and effort to beat them into submission, and given that they are beings who would not appreciate it, the success might not be complete.”

“I did not expect you to give up,” Sheryen said, bordering on insubordinate, but his surprise genuine.

Sam stood a little closer, staring him down. Her words were quiet and slow. “Do not be foolish and waste all that has been accomplished here. If they think they are worthy beings, treat them so, but do not hold back on their expected workload.”

“Jaffa do not degrade ourselves such with slaves,” Sheryen answered, spitting the last word out even as his voice sunk to her level.

Sam let her eyes almost drift past him, coldly observing the work of the people he was bound to watch. “Jaffa do what their god demands of them,” she said icily, staring him full on in the eyes again. “No matter the costs.”

“And if they realize that we are becoming soft?” Sheryen demanded.

Jolinar almost gave Sam a hint that Sheryen was pushing it, but one look had the Jaffa backing down his posture just a little. No, they didn’t need to be drastic with him yet. “If you are so incompetent as to let them see your foolishness in believing that this is weakness, then I will have no choice but to remove your position from you.”

And Sheryen turned away first, breaking the contact. Submitting himself, maybe with a little doubt about his own opinion being right. It was a first step.

ooooooo

Daniel groaned and rubbed at his eyes. After Jack’s nervous behavior at the briefing, which made sense given that no one had any clue what had happened to him after being ‘head-sucked’ by the alien device, he’d been sent to some down time. And Daniel had been sent to work.

He already had a general understanding of the Alteran language, thanks to the translations he and Dr. Jordan had made using the Asgard as cipher back on the world with the killer trees. Daniel paused at that thought, remembering for the first time in a while that Sam would know the exact designation, but he’d been around McKay for weeks, and of all the areas of science that were important to McKay, nomenclature wasn’t one of them. And ‘killer-tree-planet’ was just as functional, in the end. Anyways, while there was so much he didn’t understand, basic translation was well within his grasp.

Except translation only worked when you had a context for the results, and Daniel wasn’t sure he did. Advanced cultures didn’t think of things in terms of “device that sucks heads”, nor did they talk about them in terms of a society that couldn’t even understand how or why the device distinguished between Teal’c, McKay, and Jack. If, after all, that ring on the floor had been completely tied to the device.

With that in mind, Daniel knew he needed an intuitive mind for science to guess about the minds of an advanced culture. McKay was the first on his list, possibly unsurprisingly.

“This is not working,” McKay said from across the desk, enunciating each word clearly. “I don’t understand linguistics. I don’t care to. You’re supposed to tell me what it means, not the other way around.”

Daniel groaned again. He downed a gulp of coffee, even though he knew it wouldn’t help. “Just—just try to think of your theories about the device, what words might be used to describe them, any words at all.”

“It might help if I had theories, if I’d been given enough time to come up with them,” McKay said, looking away from Daniel’s notes.

“You always have theories; that’s why you work here,” Daniel said with a pointed look. “Now come on, McKay, ‘place of our legacy’...”

“All right, what the hell is going on with me?”

Both men jumped as Jack stormed into the lab, arms crossed, eyes alight with fear and anger. Teal’c was close behind.

“What do you mean?” Daniel asked, adjusting his glasses and frowning.

“Well, apparently I have lost the falatus to speak properly,” Jack declared. “That wasn’t a joke, I didn’t mean to say that.”

“ColonelO’Neill has several times now used strange words in place of common ones,” Teal’c added.

“Oh,” Daniel said, his mind spinning. This was odd, weird, but it was something solid. “Okay, so, what was that word you just used?”

“I believe it was falatus,” said Teal’c.

“Okay, so fitting with the almost Latin-like structure of Alteran,” Daniel mused, making sure he wasn’t jumping too quickly to the conclusion, “and that faculatus is Latin for ‘ability’, I think you’re speaking Alteran, Jack.”

Jack wasn’t looking at him. He stared at the monitor where the circle of symbols was displayed. “Nou ani anquietas.”

Daniel blinked. “Wait, what?”

Jack said again, “Nou ani anquietas. Hic qua videum.”

A strange worry and excitement filled Daniel. “You’re reading that?”

“I don’t know, you tell me!” Jack demanded, looking very uncomfortable.

“This has got to mean something,” Daniel said, looking to McKay.

“Okay, okay,” said McKay, snapping his fingers. “So, it’s like a translator?”

“Maybe,” Daniel said, glancing back to Jack and the monitor. “Yeah, actually, that would make a lot of sense. But why just Jack?”

“That can wait,” McKay said, waving it off. “First we figure out the results, then the why.”

“I believe ColonelO’Neill should visit DoctorFrasier again,” Teal’c advised.

“That’s probably a good idea, Jack,” said Daniel. “Especially if we’re right.” Jack wasn’t looking at him, for the second time. “Jack?”

In two short steps, Jack had crossed the floor to Daniel’s blackboard, grabbed a piece of chalk, and begun scribbling numbers and lines.

“Wait—whoa,” McKay said. “That’s—”

Jack was writing math, of some sort. And without any pause to think, he was just doing it. A few seconds later, he paused.

“So, infirmary,” Daniel confirmed, nodding.

Jack, putting the chalk back with a nervous gesture, nodded. He didn’t look back as Teal’c led him out of the room.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” McKay said, once the room was his and Daniel’s again. “Look at that, Jackson—it’s a mess.”

“Okay, maybe,” said Daniel. “I don’t really understand normal math, but it’s Jack, and he doesn’t either as far as I know. So why would he write that?”

“I’m guessing, not a translator,” said McKay. “Unless the Alterans never watched Star Trek and have no clue what a translator is.”

“What was that old thing about math being a universal language?” Daniel quipped. McKay barely gave a sign that he’d heard, and the two went back to work. “Okay, so what did that mean for Jack?”

ooooooo

Daniel knew for sure that time was running short for Jack. First Janet revealed that his brain was operating at a higher rate than normal, then the staff weapon, then the new gate addresses he’d added to the base computer, and now he couldn’t even speak except in Alteran.

Or was it Ancient? Daniel had been translating like mad, just as McKay tried to figure out what Jack was doing with the math and the staff weapon, and apparently the Alterans at some point had called themselves the Ancients. Which nearly blew Daniel’s mind, and Dixon, the only one there at the moment of discovery, couldn’t understand.

“The Ancient ones, mentioned by the Romans,” Daniel said, gesticulating in a wide sweep. “The ones that taught them to build roads. Roads, gates, Stargates, doesn’t that make sense?”

“Maybe,” Dixon said cautiously. He let the information absorb a few seconds, and Daniel tried to formulate what he could say next. “Whoa—you think they made the Stargates?”

“It could easily be that,” Daniel said assuredly. “They definitely have the intelligence—had, I think. That device was their legacy, according to the description. I think Jack downloaded a lot of their knowledge that they left behind.”

“Damn,” Dixon said, appreciatively.

Daniel only wished the excitement could have stayed. McKay too, apparently, now that Jack had told him that the math was in base 8, and made so much more sense. But after Janet’s announcement that Jack’s brain was going to overload with all the data, Daniel was stuck. So was Jack, apparently.

_I have to go through the Stargate_, he had written, but provided no explanation.

Hammond had finally given permission for McKay to go back to the original planet and examine the device further. Nothing out of the ordinary, except that from McKay’s point of view he was taking a big risk. With Jack’s life at stake, though, none of them questioned the value of that risk.

He came back with almost nothing, and as Daniel monitored Jack’s progress, McKay worried away at the data.

“The Gate Builders?” he burst out, after several minutes of silence. “Are idiots.”

Daniel was too worried to find that amusingly ironic. “Hmm?”

“First with the gate, now this—would it hurt to make the mechanics of their devices a little more obvious?” McKay clicked out of a window on the monitor with more force than the mouse called for. “The science almost disappears in the streamlining. Which is impressive, yes, and I’m sure their egos deserved it, but is absolutely idiotic if this is their ‘legacy’!”

“So, nothing yet?” Dixon asked, standing at the door.

Daniel frowned, more at what Jack was doing than anything else. “Where’s Teal’c?” he asked.

“With Sha’re,” Dixon said. “He said he thought he would be better suited there, since neither of them offer anything for the Colonel.”

Daniel nodded. Sometimes he hated being the one who was supposed to figure out the answers.

“So, you’ve got nothing,” Dixon repeated, looking away from Daniel.

“This science is way beyond what we know,” McKay said with a sigh. “They understood how the brain works, at least enough to get the information in. If I can’t even figure out how they did that, there’s no way I can get it out.”

“No way,” Daniel repeated, stomach still sinking low.

“For being technological geniuses, they left a lot of messes,” McKay added. He paused, becoming distracted. “What’s he doing?”

Daniel’s focus came back to Jack. “Oh,” he said. Jack had the pieces of...something...over the table, and was assembling them in a way that Daniel couldn’t quite determine. “He’s building something.”

McKay snapped his fingers. “That could be good.”

“Right, ‘cause he’s the smartest one here,” Dixon said, catching on.

“That’s debatable,” McKay said. “But no, the Ancients could have downloaded something that could solve this—give him the cure and the gift, if it was a gift, though I assume they meant it to be.”

“Maybe,” said Daniel. Just then, Jack stopped working and grabbed his notepad. The team all glanced at each other, and then Jack handed a note to Daniel and went back to work.

“Are we right?” McKay asked quickly.

Daniel honestly wasn’t sure, but it gave him some hope—Jack was there. “I don’t know. It says ‘shut up and go away’.”

“Oookay,” Dixon said. “That’s probably a good idea, then.”

Sighing, Daniel knew that this was probably the only way. In spite of McKay’s genius, Jack might just be the only one who could save himself.

ooooooo

Things finally reached a head.

“Dr. Jackson!” an airman called, walking past him in the hall. “Colonel O’Neill is missing, along with the device.”

“Oh shoot,” Daniel muttered. No one, not even Jack maybe, had known what he’d created, just that it was cylindrical and probably a power source, given the materials. But he’d demanded to be left alone again, so Daniel was just going to report to Sha’re, make sure she was all right. He’d expected that someone would watch Jack. But apparently not.

“He was last seen headed down to the power grid,” the airman added, before running past him up towards the control room.

Daniel had another place to go. Hoping Jack knew anything of what he was doing now, he took the last few halls, darted down a couple flights of stairs, and finally found what he was looking for.

“Jack?” he called, seeing the man with his device by the main grid.

“Euge,” Jack said without looking at him.

“Good?” Daniel asked, translating.

“Euge.”

Daniel was not at all so sure. “Jack, I don’t know if this is a good thing.” He didn’t turn around. “You don’t understand me anymore, do you?” It was a rhetorical question, and Daniel just rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

Jack had the device attached, roughly, to the main power. With a switch, he flipped it on, and it began to both hum and glow. Daniel should have been worried, but at this point, he couldn’t help but wonder—Jack hadn’t done anything that turned out bad so far. This might prove to be similar.

Something compelled Jack, and he ignored Daniel as he ran past. Daniel, heart in a knot but trusting that the Ancients didn’t seem to be a malicious race, followed.

“There you are!” called McKay as they entered the control room. “Do you know what he did?”

“Hooked up some sort of energy device,” Daniel said, glancing out the window. The Stargate was spinning, several chevrons already locked. Jack just stood, staring.

“It just started dialing on its own,” said Dixon.

“We need to stop this,” said Hammond. “Can we turn off the power?”

“Well, yes,” said McKay. “But that may not be a wise choice, given that we have no idea how much energy is being—the gate could overload.”

Daniel looked to Jack, but there was nothing to read in his face. Still, though, he wasn’t getting a bad feeling yet. “Sir, Jack hasn’t done us any harm yet,” he said, turning to Hammond. “Can’t we trust him on this?”

“Chevron seven...” Dixon said.

“Not encoded,” McKay said, a bit of awe in his tone.

Daniel turned to him. “What?”

“It’s dialing another symbol,” said McKay. “And locking. What could possibly—whoa, whoa, whoa!”

Daniel leaned in over the computer, as McKay swiftly brought up the screen that tracked the address of the gate. “Is that another galaxy?” he asked.

“Yes, yes it is,” said McKay, eyes wide. “And of course, that would require energy, plus another point for distance calculation.”

Daniel quickly turned to Hammond, who looked unsure. He decided to let his theory loose; at this point, there was no time for extra thought. “Sir, Jack said he needed to go through the gate earlier, but he didn’t say why. Maybe all that he’s been doing has been for this purpose—maybe it’s what he needs to do.”

“You don’t know that,” said Hammond.

Daniel glanced over to where Jack was heading out of the control room. “Well, I don’t have time to know that. Sir, I don’t think we have much of a choice.”

One of the guards had stopped Jack in his tracks. Hammond nodded, and they let Jack past. Teal’c was waiting in the gate room, staff in hand.

“We think he needs to go through the gate, Teal’c,” Daniel called as they followed Jack down.

“Then I will go with him,” Teal’c said.

Daniel put up a hand, watching Jack approach the ramp and the shimmering wormhole. “I think he needs to do this alone,” he said.

“This had better be the right thing to do,” muttered Hammond.

“Wait, without a GDO, he can’t come back,” said Dixon suddenly.

Daniel looked back at Jack. He stopped, looking Daniel straight in the eye. “He knows he may not be able to come back,” said Daniel. There was nothing else to do but take the gamble.

SG-1 and Hammond stood in the gate room, and Daniel watched as Jack walked through the gate to a completely unknown destination.

“We’ve lost the traveler!” called a gate tech from the control room.

“Godspeed,” sighed Hammond.

Daniel wondered if this had been what it was like for Jack, leaving Daniel on Abydos. He hoped it would be a better outcome.


	24. Next

_  
~This has to be a device,~ _Sam said, finally, hand resting on one of the outer walls of Quetesh’s temple as she looked up into its shadowy lofts. So many investigations, and in the end it was nothing preposterous. It was said with trepidation, though, the mere size of the building impressive enough to be frightening.  
_  
*Unfortunately that gets us nowhere. And we could have guessed, earlier.*_

~Yes, but now what? How, why, does Quetesh have this?~  
  
Answers were slow in coming on this mission, but only a couple days later they got something. Martouf and Lantash could not check in as often as would be appreciated, and sometimes the news was downright cryptic. Jolinar had shown a little concern when instead of meeting at the usual spot, there was only a tiny note on parchment waiting for them.

She bent to pick it up, but the hastily scrawled Goa’uld words meant only: “Quetesh has a weapon on Dorieth.”

Sam’s first thought was the temple. _~Can it be?~_

*Easily,* said Jolinar, and her train of thought flowed swiftly in directions Sam could understand.

After destroying the note, they walked back to the settlement. The temple rose, its particular metal structure less ornate than usual temples. Its size reached for the sky, as any weapon would have to be against ship attacks. Jolinar dug back through their memories, but it was Sam who remembered the storm before Quetesh’s first visit—the storm that had sent lightning sparking down the temple.

Sam knew that the design reminded her of something, probably from a movie, but it had been too long and she couldn’t put a name to it. Nevertheless, the picture in her mind was clear; the temple’s pyramid shape, pointing towards the heavens, and its structure of conductive material, would provide an excellent camouflage for a directed energy weapon.  
_  
*And the power source of that weapon is likely buried beneath all of this, set into place so long ago that no one but Quetesh knows for sure.*_

~So Quetesh strikes with stealth against Ba’al’s forces, and then when they’re weakened enough for her to have a chance, she draws his remaining ships here—where she can destroy them.~

*It all revolves around her accomplishing the first part of the plan, which is the most dangerous to the Tok’ra,* Jolinar added.  
_  
~So, I’m just brainstorming, but if we made the second part, this temple part, unavailable...~_

*It might slow her down while she finds a new plan—but she will, eventually.*

~Time, time is good. We don’t have any long-term strategy yet.~

*And so, what do we do with the temple?*  
  
It was partly rhetorical, as Jolinar could easily come up with ideas once she set her mind to it. But Sam didn’t need that—one had just come into her head. Feeling the excitement of having something to plan, she almost grinned.  
_  
*You want to explode it?*_

ooooooo

“I can’t believe it,” McKay said, for the third time.

Once again, he was saying just what the others were thinking, just without the bit of tact they all used—and if the others other than Daniel weren’t thinking it, they were more ingenious than Daniel thought possible from military types.

“Of all people, you, were the ambassador to one of the most technically advanced societies in the galaxy,” McKay said.

Jack, cleared for active duty again, just sat at the mess hall table. The briefing had been like something out of a fantasy of Daniel’s, and even Jack had been serious and respectful throughout. The fifth race—the words sent shivers up Daniel’s spine. The alliance of the four Great Races was now considering his people as a possible addition.

“I think the Asgard like me,” Jack said simply.

“Well, and the Ancients certainly did,” said McKay, both impressed and jealous.

“Hey, did you ask about them?” Dixon asked. “Who they were, why the thing grabbed you?”

Daniel had almost forgotten that point, though apparently Teal’c had not, from his interested rise of an eyebrow.

“Uh, no,” said Jack, poking at the pie on his plate.

McKay looked disappointed.

Daniel glanced at the door a few seconds later, catching the sound of a step he knew well. Sha’re, relieved and relaxed, came over to the table, Shifu slung in her arms.

“I was worried about you, O’Neill,” she said, his name coming out strangely endearing in her accent.

Jack smiled, a bit uncomfortably. Smiling, Sha’re stooped to hug Jack as he sat. Daniel was not surprised, remembering the Abyonians’ penchant for physical displays. But he, and Sha’re too, if he was reading the amused look on her face, knew that Jack found it awkward.

“Keep safe from this day forward,” she said warningly, pausing only to rub Daniel’s shoulder before leaving.

“Nice to know people care,” Jack muttered, but they all could see that he was touched.

“I’ve got to figure out what was behind that device,” McKay said under his breath after a few seconds of quiet contemplation.

ooooooo  
_  
~It’s good tactics and good spin. We get rid of the temple, and it looks like sabotage. Quetesh’s great monument, destroyed by mere mortals. If she is a god, why not defend it?~_

*Right,* agreed Jolinar, easily on board with this plan. Sam had had no doubt on that point.

They walked through the village, looking at all the faces, weary but settled.  
_  
~We’re only one person, though. How do we pull it off?~_

*Blasting fire from the quarries,* said Jolinar.  
_  
~That foundation, that structure—I’m no architect, but there’s no way it’s going to come down easily.~_

*Oh, we have enough, if one knows how to set the charges.*  
  
Sam almost grinned again, but they were walking among the people and couldn’t let inner conversation affect outer acting_. ~Let me guess, you’re a bit of an expert on this?~_

Jolinar paused a moment before answering. _*No,*_ she said. _*But it is an area I find most appealing, and have performed whenever possible before.*_

Sam nodded. _~Me too. So, we set it up slowly, little by little during the night shifts?~_

*Yes, we can make that work.*  
  
There were more details than that, but words weren’t quite fast enough. Jolinar had been at ease with the infiltration for some time, but Sam hadn’t realized that it was exactly like spy-work until now. And she almost hated herself for finding something to enjoy in a mission that could cost so highly.  
_  
*Take whatever pleasure you can; it may not last long.*_

ooooooo

Only a couple days after Jack’s adventure, Jean and Kaleb moved into Colorado Springs. Jean’s first true day at work was uneventful, as far as Daniel could tell from the reports. Unsurprising, given that McKay was still at work on the Ancient device that had taken Jack. It wasn’t his field, but as he said to Daniel, “If they leave their messes all around, I need to know how to break through and figure them out the next time.”

Daniel wondered if it was possible, if they were advanced enough. McKay, as always, scoffed and said that science was science, and it was something you learned not something you evolved to. Maybe he was right—Daniel was soft science, after all.

A few days after Jack’s adventure, he refused to talk about it, and was all gung ho for the check-up mission to Cimmeria. The whole team went, if reluctantly from McKay’s point of view. On their way back to the gate, nothing new to report, Daniel heard Jack say:

“_This_ was a team mission.”

And the team went as a group to the infirmary, which only occasionally happened. Janet was not there for the moment, and some nurses that not even Daniel knew by name dealt with the after-mission check-up. Almost at the end, there was a light knock behind Daniel on the infirmary doorframe.

“Hey, Daniel,” said Jean, leaning her head around the frame.

“Hey,” said Daniel, surprised. “What is it?”

“Well,” she began, “I—oh, there’s Rodney.”

“Do you need something?” McKay asked, trying not to be too distant

“Yes,” she said, then hesitated. “First I read your last mission report, just out of curiosity—then Clare was showing me all the labs, including yours, and I noticed your research on that head-grabbing thing.” She grinned, slightly sheepish.

“And?” McKay asked.

“So, you still haven’t figured out why it grabbed Colonel O’Neill,” said Jean, nodding to where Jack was fussing about the needle. “And you’re not even trying, from what we can tell.”

 “You know, just because you’re related doesn’t mean you can spy on my work,” McKay said testily.

“And because you’re mister up-and-on-top scientist here, you shouldn’t be so protective about everything that you can’t have time to work on,” Jean answered in the blink of an eye, one hand on her hip as she stood full in the doorway now.

McKay stumbled over his words. “You—you want to take my project?”

“No,” said Jean firmly. “But I do have a theory and I’d like to run some tests with your research.”

“What’s the theory?” McKay demanded.

Daniel felt as if the infirmary, and everyone in it, had disappeared for the siblings, leaving only them. He watched anyway, curious about the eventual outcome.

“You’re focusing on the science,” Jean said, gesturing with her hands. “But it’s not like the device is sentient, so science isn’t the testable variable for this issue—it’s the people. You and Teal’c didn’t activate the device; Jack did. We don’t need to figure out how the device works to figure that out. So you can do your work, and I’ll try to figure out what made Jack different.”

McKay took a long pause. “Hmm. Okay, I suppose.”

“Good,” said Jean lightly, putting her hands together. “Now, who do I go to to get genetic information on all three of you?”

“I can help with that,” Daniel said, as McKay looked protesting.

“I know this isn’t my area of expertise, but I can’t believe no one else has taken it,” Jean said in a low tone, as Daniel went to find the head doctor when Janet wasn’t around.

“I think our job descriptions all have ‘eclectic’ somewhere in them, so I wouldn’t worry,” Daniel said.

Jean grinned, and Daniel knew he’d been right about her fitting this job.

ooooooo

Sam crouched down, reaching her hand through the gap in the stairs’ design to click the blast charge into place. It had taken a couple days, and many a heart-pounding moment when case another might Jaffa notice, but all the charged they needed lay now in place. Sam breathed out, rose to her feet, and walked back up the stairs to the main level of the temple.

The sun shone down, light filling all but the farther recesses, and just being in it gave Sam less of a suspicious feeling. Out here she was Coron, not a secret Tok’ra agent.  
_  
~You know, this is going to be really dangerous,~_ Sam said, not for the first time.  
_  
*And we’ll manage.*_

~If this is a device, it has some kind of power source; we might not be able to repair the damage. It could take out the village and the fields, maybe even the quarries, or start a landslide.~

*And why would that be bad?*

~Sorry, I’m just thinking about maintaining our cover, how Coron will have to deal with the aftermath for weeks if not months.~

*Try thinking instead about keeping lives safe; everything else will fall into place as it happens.*

~Oh yes, that was helpful; how will we keep no one from dying without giving away our part in it?~

*Watch.*

And Sam did. Jolinar slowly readjusted the flow of personnel to the temple, sending more of it to the fields and quarries. She noted those who were still close, guessed at reaction times, made sure that their tasks were easily grabbed and run away with if necessary. They would do this today—every hour longer just invited suspicion from a Jaffa who connected the dots after finding one of the blast charges.  
_  
*I must not forget to hope that the blast charges collapse the building more than blast it across the countryside.*  
_  
Mid-afternoon, she started. Activating the blast charges with the pocket detonator, she didn’t set the timer though. Then, she called back one of the teams that had been patrolling the temple in the morning, gave them specific orders to be on the lookout. Not that Coron would suspect anything, just enough to hopefully give them the right frame of mind.

It took an hour longer than she expected, but the payload struck with just the right amount of tension.

“My lord,” reported the Jaffa, eyes wide. “Sabotage, my lord, on the temple!”

“Speak quickly!” Jolinar demanded, moving closer to him in her faked urgency.

“An explosive, placed behind a supporting structure, but I do not know when it is set to go off,” the Jaffa continued, and others heard and drew closer. “And I do not know how many more there are.”

Jolinar glanced between all that stood near, taking the worry in their faces, and then she looked up to the temple itself. Sun glinted off its beams, and it framed small fluffy clouds in between the topmost ones, looking ever so peaceful and not about to be destroyed. She frowned.

“Swiftly, look among all the important structures, and report back,” she ordered, nodding to each of the three Jaffa that stood near.

“But my lord, what if it is set to detonate shortly?” asked one.

“Then you will die having carried out my orders diligently,” snapped Jolinar. “This is for the will of our god, not your simple life.”

And they were off, armor chinking loudly as they ran up the temple steps. As a reasonable precaution, Jolinar then ordered all slaves to cease traffic to the temple. Blood pumped through their heart, and Jolinar felt the tension as almost a pleasant feeling—Sam didn’t feel it much different from normal, but then again, it had only just begun.

oooooooo

Daniel sat cross-legged on the floor of his lab, knees touching Sha’re’s as she sat across from him. Their hands rested together in between, encircling Shifu where he lay, legs kicking.

“You don’t need to be silent, Dan’yel,” Sha’re said.

“I’m sorry, I forgot the exact ritual,” he said with a slight smile. He stroked her soft fingers, looking down at his son. “You look better.”

“I am,” she answered, giving tiny squeezes to his hand while acting as if she was doing nothing. “I have found the library on this base.”

One of Daniel’s eyebrows rose.

Sha’re laughed. “You have been around Teal’c, perhaps too much?”

“So you are learning to read, then,” Daniel said, interested and pleased.

“I learned that with the Tok’ra,” she said. “My knowledge of Goa’uld is limited, but they were able to translate many documents into this language. Still you, Dan’yel, are more likely to know my own tongue of Abydos.”

“Really?” Daniel said. This was something she’d never brought up before. He glanced up to her face, looking past the slight weariness that Shifu’s colic still caused—that confidence behind her eyes, that he had first known in the fight against Ra, was there tenfold now. She had not only will, but knowledge—and she felt powerful. Daniel smiled again. “You’ll have to tell me if there’s anything interesting.”

“Oh, do not worry, I will,” Sha’re said, with the hint in her eyes that told Daniel she knew exactly what thoughts were running through his head. Like always. He’d missed this so much...

“Oh, I’m sorry—”

Sha’re looked up, and Daniel turned around, seeing Jean in the doorway.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said, waving her hand.

“It is nothing,” Sha’re said, nodding. “If it were otherwise, we should have closed the door at least. What is it?”

“I was going to tell Dr. Jackson—I’ve found something amazing,” Jean said, and Daniel could have sworn her hand looked almost twitchy with excitement.

He remembered what she was working on, and sat up straight. “Really?”

“You know I wanted to see if there was something physical that the device detected in Colonel O’Neill,” she said. “Well, I ran all the basic tests with the help of another scientist here, someone a bit more biologically minded. Blood type, the chemicals on the skin, even pheromones, but nothing came out significant.”

Daniel nodded, as Sha’re scooped up Shifu and rose to her feet, and he followed.

“But Rodney said these people had been working on genetic manipulation, so I thought, you don’t just do that once, right?” Jean let the question hang for a second, the exact way McKay did. It was thankfully a little more endearing on her.

Daniel was more distracted by her words, though. “The device genetically altered Jack?”

“No, no, I don’t think so,” said Jean. “Actually, I’m positive it’s not like that. I contacted the SGC’s geneticist, Dr. Fisher, and we ran...a lot of tests. Anyway, it took a long time, but then we found the anomaly.”

“In Jack,” Daniel guessed.

Jean nodded. “But it couldn’t have been the device—at least, I’m 99% sure it couldn’t—because we went back and found older blood tests and ran the same thing on them. One of Colonel O’Neill’s genes is slightly different than everyone else on the team. And it always has been.”

Daniel felt his mind opening wide. “So...the Ancients only would download their knowledge into the brain of someone who had the right gene?”

“That’s my hypothesis,” Jean said, nodding. “The problem is, I can’t test it without someone else with the same gene, not to mention another legacy device. And so far as I can tell, Colonel O’Neill’s the only one with the gene on this base. Well, according to Dr. Fisher, but he might have been exaggerating.” She fiddled with her hands, eyebrows raised in expectation of his answer.

“This is—that’s—” Daniel glanced to Sha’re, but she had the same look of cluelessness that he figured was on his own face. “That’s brilliant work. And this could be huge, if it really means all that.”

“You know what,” Jean said, eyes narrowing for a second. “I just thought of this—the Ancients must have been humanoid, very close to it, if just one gene was similar enough to activate the device.”

“Well, don’t humans share their genes with a lot of creatures?” Daniel asked.

“Oh, yes, I hadn’t thought of that,” Jean said, with a slight laugh. “I’m not a biologist.”

“It might mean something, though,” Daniel said. “We just don’t know what.”

“I’ll do what further tests I can,” said Jean with a nod. “Just thought I’d tell you, and maybe Rodney. I don’t think Colonel O’Neill would want to know.”

“No, probably not,” said Daniel. “If he asks, though, I’ll tell him.”

“Back to work then,” said Jean, smiling and turning to leave.

“I believe her report will make interesting reading,” said Sha’re, ponderingly.

Daniel turned to her and smiled, absently patting the top of Shifu’s head as his mind still whirled with this new possibility. “I’ve no doubt it will.”

ooooooo

Jolinar shouted sharp commands as the inhabitants of Dorieth fled from the radius of the temple, anything important they could grab grasped tightly in their arms. Jaffa could barely be distinguished from them, running almost as disorderly, even as they were commanded to shepherd.

“You, tell them to turn back!” Jolinar called to one Jaffa, seeing some of the slaves from the valley running towards the mountain. It wouldn’t be as safe down there, but they wouldn’t make it up far enough in time. The timer was set, and though Coron was only supposed to guess, the nature of Goa’uld explosives made it fairly accurate.

Only a couple minutes left. They were almost a mile away, but it didn’t seem far enough. Jolinar was starting to have a moment of fear, and it was probably Sam’s originally, but either way...

“Move!” she snapped, some of the slower slaves in her path on the way up into the hills. She thought she’d arranged them better than this in the morning.

They were turning the corner, rounding one of the hills that led into the mountains. Jolinar hadn’t lost count: fifteen seconds.  
_  
~I need to see,~ _said Sam.

“Down!” ordered Jolinar, as she strode up to the top of the hill, planting her feet, preparing to heal ear damage at the sound of the boom.

They heard it first, then felt it. A crack of thunder, and the earth quaked beneath them, dislodging their footing even as fire ripped through the sky. The temple shook in the initial explosion, then the secondary ones blasted out in a wide radius, sending fire and shrapnel raining down even on the villages. Buildings that weren’t in the blast zone still crumbled because of the shaking of the earth.

A heat wave struck Jolinar full in the face, and in her shock she breathed in heat and smoke. When she opened her eyes again, the remaining structures of the temple wavered, creaking and trembling. Then in another crash, they fell, some sliding down into the valley, one crashing into the front steps itself. The skyline was suddenly clear, and the planet looked naked.  
_  
~Did we expect that level of damage?~_ Sam asked, looking at the all-but destroyed village below. Even the road was cracked in two places, and almost half the housing lay in smoking rubble.  
_  
*We did,*_ Jolinar said.

She took a breath of clearer air, then gave Sam control as she started to work on the ringing in their ears. Sam turned to the people below, Jaffa and slaves alike sheltered behind the hills. Not all could hear, but not all had to.

“There is fire in the village below,” she called. “Drey’dac, you will lead the slaves to work there. And Corrifin, you will report to me with a list of damages and any deaths. Our god does not allow for wasted time. Move!”  
_  
~Will they question why Quetesh allowed this to happen, I wonder?~_

*We may help them with that. What we may not help is what Quetesh will do when she hears of it. Omniscient she may not be, but wrathful she can be. Her suspicion will be great.*  
  
But as Sam followed the Jaffa and slaves down to the village, with the smoke choking her lungs and the chaos of destruction all she could see behind it—all she cared about was the people of this planet. The people she was sworn to protect, all of them. She had to do this, for the greater good of the mission. But she wasn’t going to let them take whatever fall Quetesh might have in mind.

And as her hearing leveled back out and returned to normal, she knew that this must be what the Tok’ra felt like all the time. Each step needing careful planning because they couldn’t afford to blame themselves for lack of it. Even Jolinar understood this, but especially now. Now, it was almost their people who might suffer; their friends, at least, if any Abydonian died.

It could not happen.


	25. Stray Ends

Sha’re sat with Shifu in the mess hall as Daniel walked in. She had a file folder open on the table before her, a pita sandwich in one hand and another cradling Shifu as he fed sheltered beneath her scarf.

“Today a good day?” he asked, interpreting her look of peaceful fascination.

“Mm,” she said through a mouthful of the flatbread. She glanced up. “But not yours?”

Daniel frowned. Surely he didn’t look that bad. He glanced down at himself, just to make sure.

“You forgot your glasses,” she said, catching his confusion and smiling.

That explained the slight blurriness. Daniel rubbed at the spot where they should be on his nose. “Oh. Yeah, I guess it was a bit tough.”

“Sit then,” Sha’re beckoned.

Daniel took the seat opposite her, leaning his arms on the table. He sighed, then realized he didn’t even know he’d wanted to.

“Well?” Sha’re asked, curious. She put down her pita and closed the file, fixing her attention on him.

“Just McKay and Jean,” Daniel said. He still didn’t know exactly what they were doing, only that while they could keep the bickering up all day without actually losing their temper, he had gotten overwhelmed. “They convinced Hammond to let a team extract the Ancient device from the planet, so they could bring it back here and study it.”

“What do they wish to find?” Sha’re asked. Shifu moaned underneath the shawl, and Sha’re adjusted him and herself while Daniel found the words for an answer.

“Oh,” he said with another sigh. Sighing felt good. “They’re convinced that the device should have some information left over if they can just access it. I think they’re trying to find an easy way to artificially use Jack’s DNA, but they may have gotten past that. I don’t know. There was an occasional phrase or two that needed translating, so they wouldn’t let me leave.”

“Oh, poor Dan’yel,” Sha’re said, softly but amused. “You haven’t eaten, have you?”

Daniel blinked. How had he forgotten that? It would explain his dull mood. “Uh, no.”

“First your eyes, and now your stomach,” Sha’re said. “Dan’yel, Dan’yel.”

He smiled, a little sheepish but mostly glad of the reminder, then looked over her shoulder to see a head pop around the corner.

Sha’re seemed to catch the change in his face. “What is it?” she asked, then turned around.

“Jackson,” said McKay, terse but bright in tone. “We need—”

“Nothing,” Sha’re said shortly. “We are eating, Rodney, and that is that. I will send him your way when he is ready.”

It was short and sweet, and McKay’s mouth did a half-closing thing before he said anything. “Yes, well—wait, no—”

“Come, Dan’yel, let us see what’s on the menu today,” Sha’re said, standing up and gesturing for Daniel to follow her.

Daniel smiled, and almost shrugged to McKay behind her back. But he didn’t want to draw attention to her handling of the situation, especially because he was merely grateful for it. And that food did look good.

Even Rodney didn’t follow Sha’re once he had been dismissed.

ooooooo

Two Jaffa dead, that was their casualty list. A handful of smaller injuries, but it was the deaths that were important. Especially since they were still masquerading as Jaffa.

Sam and Jolinar didn’t waste a moment to take in the expanse of the disaster, at least not outwardly, as they sorted the uninjured into work groups. All that afternoon, and the rest of the evening, they only saw the basic needs taken care of. Some cleared paths to get through areas. Some arranged quarters for the injured. Some took care of the necessities of water and food, since sleep was less a priority even at this point. By the time evening arrived, Jolinar was ready to instruct the night shift on more particular clean-up.

That was the moment that they remembered that Quetesh didn’t know yet. It was a bit of a mistake, but easily corrected. The Jaffa were all standing, waiting for their new orders.

“Corrifin,” Jolinar said. “Though our god Quetesh sees all, it seems that she did not consider to look and watch over those who serve her well.” She let the words hang, though did not add any look or tone that might suggest another meaning to her words. They were intelligent enough to understand even if they didn’t know why.

“Then I will go to inform her,” Corrifin said, catching the obvious meaning.

They barely noticed as he trudged up the road to the gate. The broken road. Jolinar gritted her teeth for having to deal with that in the days to come. They couldn’t spare time to fix it, not when the fields and village were in such a mess.

At last they were all tasked with something, and Jolinar felt the need to walk up to the ruins themselves. A putrid stench lingered above them, mingling with the smoke that still hovered around. The ruins themselves were heated, not only from the sun, but from their conductive nature. Carefully, trying to keep balance in their clunky armor, Jolinar stepped through, looking around.  
_  
~Curious?~_

*If it was a device, then there would be some kind of crystalline programming.*  
  
Sam doubted anything would be there, but Jolinar looked anyway, still curious. The foundation was the only thing left standing, though, and everything else had been scattered in pieces darkened by the explosives and soot.   
_  
~I hope Quetesh doesn’t want us to rebuild this.~_

*She does not possess that kind of patience.*

~Good, because it’ll be bad enough to clean this up.~

Jolinar exited the ruins and walked down the road, noticing with displeasure the sharp cracks in their road. The fields below had suffered some, mostly in the fall of soot and debris shards. Water would wash most of it away, but it would take some skill to get the proper amount that would wash away the scraps without flooding. Also, the metal would have to be collected and taken to a refinery—naquadah alone was difficult, but any resource could not be wasted.

The next time they talked to someone, Sam realized that the sun had fallen several degrees, and it was late afternoon. Corrifin returned, approached them, and bowed to offer a small computer screen.

Jolinar slightly raised an eyebrow.

“I did not speak to our lord directly, as expected,” Corrifin said. “But her servant, Tirnin, vowed to carry the message, and he returned later and asked that you be given this.”

Jolinar had been giving Corrifin a steady eye, but at the name Tirnin she could not help but glance down at the computer. Martouf and Lantash were taking quite a risk to send information this way, which could be either a good or a bad sign. Were they in disfavor, or so deep and trusted that they couldn’t afford to risk it? It was not the time for that, though. “We can only hope that our god sees fit to notice us now,” Jolinar said, eyebrow thoroughly risen and emphasis on the last word.

Corrifin took in her words, bowed again, and returned to his previous duty.

They were too curious to wait, so Jolinar stepped to one side and activated the device. It called for a simple Tok’ra password, and then had a brief document inside.  
_  
*Oh my.*_

Brief it might be, but information was there in plenty. Tirnin had been busy.

ooooooo

“Um, Daniel?” Clare Tobias was at his door, surprising him. The engineering department never needed him.

“Yes?” he answered.

“Jean sent me,” she said, looking slightly cautious. “And...the magic twins have actually got something for you.”

“The what?” Daniel asked with slight laugh.

“They needed my help breaking the device down,” said Clare, grinning. “Or, well, McKay was going to go at it, but Jean distracted him with jello so I could get in first. Oh, you meant the name? It’s nothing, just that they’ve been doing a lot of interesting stuff together. Not really magic, but genius definitely.”

“No, I understand nicknames,” said Daniel. “What exactly have they got?”

“A bit of something that looks like programming, but they’re not sure if it’s Ancient text or some kind of symbolic language,” said Clare. “And I’m good with programming languages once I know them, but identifying them is a bit tricky.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll be down in a minute,” said Daniel, getting up from his chair. Again, he wondered why she was there. “Is there a reason they didn’t call or come up?”

“Jean thinks you’re frustrated with them because they’ve been using you a lot on this,” said Clare, shrugging apologetically.

Daniel nodded, and didn’t answer as he followed her. He didn’t want to be frustrated, that was for sure. But with Shifu staying up all night wailing, and McKay on top of him the next morning—well, he hadn’t been on his best. The honeymoon period of this new SGC, and his new family, was wearing off faster than he could track it.

Somehow that didn’t matter, though, when he had the actual text in his hand.

ooooooo  
_  
~This is almost the whole plan laid out, honestly.~_ Sam had absorbed all the information in the small information packet, and now just needed to repeat it out in order.  
_  
*Quetesh had a plan, that is sure.*_

~So all we need to know is exactly how the stealth attack is going to go, because everything else is simple. How she’s going to take out all the leaders on his ships...I don’t know, it’s quite ambitious.~

*The Tok’ra could manage it. Which is the point, I suppose, but Quetesh is apparently willing to stoop to that. She needs to, if she wants his fleet. They would self-destruct before surrender, unless she can demonstrate her weapon.*  
  
_~Well, her chances would certainly be better without leaders. Take out the leaders, the Tok’ra are blamed, and then the rest of the fleet can be lured to the planet and forced to surrender.~_

*Without the weapon, though, that plan becomes half obsolete.*

~Is there a way she could use that love drug that was mentioned more extensively? When we went up against Hathor, it was devastatingly effective.~

*I do not know. But as it seemed she was drawing near to having both the stealth and the weapon ready, I think it will take some time to switch plans.*

~And in the meantime, we get this Jaffa thing rolling.~

*Martouf says that he believes that Quetesh’s leniency might have worked against her for some of the Jaffa, and they may be open to seeing other views.*

~Okay, so that means we need to contact Bra’tac. Do you know the address to Chulak?~

*Someone among the Tok’ra does.*

~Okay, let’s get this going then.~

*What we don’t know, still, is how Quetesh reacted. But we could hardly change anything in that case, so it is more a matter of curiosity.*

~Exactly.~

Jolinar had been just about to say that—perhaps Sam was more like her than she knew.

ooooooo

After a short reconnection with the Tok’ra to get the information for Chulak, Jolinar hooded herself to hide Quetesh’s mark and disappeared during Dorieth night. After bearing the tattoo for so long, it had stained itself deeply into their skin, becoming semi-permanent. Chulak’s early morning made for a bit of psychological jolt, but that was not so bad.

Finding Bra’tac did not take long. Neither Sam nor Jolinar knew what he’d been up to, but the planet looked fairly at rest. He eyed her cautiously, but it soon became clear that he had not been totally informed of what had happened with Sam. Only that she had been taken, and as Bra’tac had heard of the Tok’ra before, he accepted that with minimal doubt.

Their mission, however, made him more skeptical.

“I do not know your allegiances, much as I would wish to believe you,” he said after Sam explained all she could. They sat in Teal’c’s old house, though Drey’auc and Ry’ac were not present.

“Listen, I’m not going to ask for information about any contacts you have,” Sam assured. “I just need your advice on who I should be looking to turn to on Dorieth, and how to go about it. Surely you have experience by now.”

Bra’tac eyed her from beneath his grey brows. “That information could be useful to the Goa’uld.”

“So could most things,” Sam said firmly. “But either these Jaffa will die in conquest, or we can free them—your choice. Either way, though, Quetesh will not survive.”

“A part of me wishes to believe that you are a well-trained spy,” Bra’tac said, his voice carrying a dangerous tint that sounded like slight amusement. “But I have been accustomed to believing the Goa’uld to be less subtle, and that is hard to shake.”

“Will you help?” Sam asked.

Bra’tac leaned closer. “If the Tok’ra are willing to prove to me their good will. I will give you nothing on this visit, but leave me a device that may contact you.”

Sam paused. “You could use that information against us.”

“Or find out that you are truly communicating with a System Lord,” Bra’tac countered. “But trust is something I require before I give you mine.”

Sam frowned, but he didn’t ask for much in the end. Just that she let herself be held captive, without a weapon, and let him hold a staff weapon to her head as he interrogated her. Jolinar was skeptic, but Sam was leading on this one—she didn’t think she had anything to fear from Bra’tac, and certainly nothing from herself. Still, her heart didn’t stop pounding until some time after Bra’tac lost the steely glint in his eye as he looked fully prepared to blast her head off at the first wrong answer.

It wasn’t much of a test, but it satisfied Bra’tac for then. Sam only had a few hours left before she needed to be back on Dorieth, but Bra’tac made the hours worth it. She and Jolinar left Chulak mid-morning their time, and returned when only a couple hours of night remained on Dorieth. They felt exhausted the next morning, but it had been worth it.

Surprisingly, it was the little things that made the difference. A few looks here, some words there, a delicate manipulation of tone. Those who were well-entrenched in their ways wouldn’t notice, but Sam started to notice that some of the more difficult Jaffa might be using bluster to hide doubt.

Day by day, the pieces of their broad plan were spread out among the planet, as they looked forward to the day when they would all fit together into the perfect puzzle.

ooooooo

To Daniel’s relief, McKay and Jean didn’t find much in the leftovers of the Ancient device, and the SGC moved on to other tasks. Jean started work in R&amp;D, and McKay went back to updating the SGC’s defenses.

Dixon stopped by Daniel’s office more than usual now. At first Daniel hadn’t given it mind, until he realized that the conversation always went in a parenting direction. It was subtle, so Daniel hadn’t really expected it.

“It’s very different now,” Daniel admitted one day, leaving the file of Ancient information he was organizing alone and leaning back in his chair. “I can’t just—focus the way I used to.”

“Well, I have good news and bad news,” said Dixon, comfortably leaned against the door. “Good news is, that fades the older they get, and the less immediate trouble they are for you. Bad news is, something about that’s always here to stay. Your single and productive days are over.”

Daniel nodded, with slight weariness. “I honestly never considered that before.” Then again, he’d only joined in the first place for Sha’re—but even after that, he’d never considered children, or what they might do to things.

“Join the club,” snorted Janet, walking into the office right as Daniel spoke.

“You have a kid?” Dixon asked, surprised.

“Yes, of course,” said Janet crisply. “Were you not here when Cassandra came?”

Dixon shrugged. “Sorry, I don’t pay that much attention to gossip.”

“Well, I can’t fault you for that, sir,” Janet said, walking over to hand Daniel a file. “Daniel, I hope you don’t mind, but I did an allergy test on Shifu—Sha’re approved, of course. He appears to be clean, surprising given that he was born on another world.”

“Thanks,” said Daniel, shuffling the file to another place on his desk.

Janet paused as she was leaving, turning around. “Oh, and speaking of Cassandra, she would like to stop by and see Shifu if that’s all right.”

“Of course,” said Daniel. “It’s been a long time since her last visit, hasn’t it?”

Janet nodded, her lips pursed. “Yes, well, things were tough for a while.”

Daniel had almost forgotten that. “Just bring her along any time,” he said.

“There really are a lot of kids,” Dixon mused. “We’re becoming a family business.”

Daniel chuckled.

ooooooo

They were a little too blunt, but thankfully it wasn’t the Jaffa who noticed. After a couple days of dropping the starting points of Jaffa rebellion, the Abydonians started to catch the hints not meant for them. They started to speak more boldly, offering excuses or alternatives on occasion, though only when Sam and Jolinar were around.

Worse, it wasn’t just the Abydonians. Sam and Jolinar quietly and carefully molded their leadership style to be more revolution-friendly, but even they couldn’t go too far. Definitely not yet.  
_  
*It’s too fast,* _Jolinar said, after they only barely avoided a confrontation with Sheryen over another almost-rebellious slave. _*It has to be all at once, slaves and Jaffa alike, or it will backfire.*_

Sam decided that now was the time for direct action. Inchen, one of the most outward of the Abydonians, made yet another bold move—and Sam had him brought to her quarters. For all outward intents and purposes she was teaching him a lesson, but instead she made sure of her assumptions.

Yes, he did suspect her of being a spy. And yes, she confirmed it. He looked bright, just not bright enough to lead a rebellion by himself.

“We’re not letting you do it on your own,” she said, looking him straight in the eye with her tone low but firm. “It would be disaster. But we have a plan, and if you just slow down and take it with a little less enthusiasm, it’ll work for you too.”

Inchen’s eyes were wide, hope and surprise and maybe a little fear all mingled in them. He swallowed. “I will tell them.”

Sam realized that she might have been too conversational. Her tone tightened. “You cannot betray that you know anything, or it will prove the deaths of many. Do you understand this?”

The bit of fear rose in Inchen’s eyes, but he nodded swiftly. “Only a few know,” he said, his tone low as well. “We know that there is danger.”

“More than I can protect you from, remember,” said Sam. “Especially if you defy my Jaffa in this manner.”

When she dismissed him, it was a relief to see him return to work looking deflated.  
_  
*They cannot know too much, of course, but it would be simpler if they were aware that we need the Jaffa on our side as well.*_

~They can’t handle that much to keep discreet; they’re too honest.~

ooooooo

Discretion mattered more than they had bargained for. Only a day later, and the Tok’ra home-world itself contacted Sam and Jolinar. Nothing had been heard of Quetesh, or what her reaction or solution to the disaster on Dorieth was, so they were hesitant to return. However, the Council seemed to insist.

The Council chamber looked strange to Jolinar after almost three weeks away. Three weeks in the sun and the dust and the grit of hard labor. It was like a breath of home, but a home they didn’t want to see until their mission was complete.

“Why were we recalled like this?” Jolinar asked. “It is not a good time.”

“So we heard,” said Garshaw. “Your business with the temple could prove...interesting. But we do not fault the move, especially since our other operative approved as well.”

Jolinar tried to read her face, but failed. Selmak and Ren’al stood behind her, but their expressions were too calm to have anything.

“It is your other improvised action that we must speak on,” said Garshaw, taking a breath. “You and the other operative collaborated on a plan involving the Jaffa. The Council was hesitant to even think about it, but we trusted your judgment. You spoke to one you believe is a leader of the Jaffa rebellion?”

Jolinar nodded once.  
_  
~How could she guess that we met with Bra’tac?~ _Sam asked. They hadn’t even told Martouf or Lantash.

“An attack against Apophis was led today, by his own Jaffa,” Garshaw said, her eyes set and cool. “One of our operatives witnessed the entire thing, and was near to being in danger.”

Jolinar frowned. “We only spoke with Bra’tac two days ago,” she said. “Surely it is a coincidence.”

“We cannot know for sure, only that this has not happened before,” said Garshaw. “And didn’t seem likely to happen.”

Jolinar’s frown deepened. “Any action was his prerogative.”

“Which gives us great concern about this move,” Selmak said, stepping forward. “We understand your intent, but the Jaffa are unpredictable in this manner.”

Sam spoke next. “They aren’t going to risk anything that could turn back on them, not at this stage. That event won’t be repeated for a while, I’m sure. It’s just to spread the word.”

“And make the Goa’uld suspicious of everyone, compromising our network,” said Ren’al, but her tone wasn’t heavy.

“Only in the worst case scenario,” Sam said. This was her idea, after all, and she’d been mulling it over for weeks now. “But the Goa’uld may just as easily consider their lieutenants and the Jaffa separate, as the Tok’ra did before now. But how mighty we can be if beneath the surface we are allied.”

No immediate answer came, as neither Sam nor Jolinar could really expect.

“We will do nothing but watch and wait for now,” said Garshaw. “But we do not wish you contacting the Jaffa again, lest they be encouraged to the point of foolhardiness, even if you intention is otherwise. And we are issuing a broad order to limit reports, if indeed the Goa’uld grow more wary.”

Sam nodded, and the briefing ended.

“There is not too much to worry about yet,” said Selmak in a low tone, putting a hand on her back as he turned to follow Garshaw and Ren’al as they left.

“I certainly hope not,” said Sam.


	26. Worry

Sha’re had convinced him to do it. Daniel planned for no interruptions, especially now that their schedule flowed fairly smoothly. But this dig, it reminded him of things from a long time ago, and Sha’re seemed eager to join him offworld.

“You’re sure the team won’t need me?” he asked Jack.

“We’re not doing much for a while, Daniel,” said Jack. “Which is odd, you know, given our mission.”

“Mission?” Daniel asked, eyebrows slightly risen in curiosity.

“You know, explore new worlds, boldly go, yadda yadda,” Jack said dryly. “New civilizations, though, not dead ones.”

Daniel smiled to himself. “Jack, that’s Star Trek.” He paused. “Hey, I thought you didn’t like science fiction.”

“I...don’t,” Jack said, his defense coming out quick but rather flat.

Daniel smiled to himself again.

Jack switched to his other defense. “Anyway, you two kids—and your kid—have fun in the dirt. We’ll keep the light on here.”

“Thanks, Jack,” said Daniel. He wasn’t sure if he himself would really use the word fun, but the way Jack meant it—yes, that was exactly what he intended to have.

ooooooo

Affairs were best termed tenuous on Dorieth, Jolinar decided. Sam had been more optimistic, calling them generally ripe for change. Jolinar reminded her enough times that change was not always good.

It was strange, watching how the ideal changed on its way to reality. Without any more words in person, it seemed that Kasuf was convinced. With the planet in a mess, there’d been no way to keep guards on him all the time, and so he’d been released among his people. That, along with what they would almost certainly tell him, sealed the deal.

Suddenly, the Abydonians were perfectly efficient. Suddenly, their boldness was almost always within the proper parameters. And suddenly, Sam and Jolinar’s hints to the Jaffa seemed to prove correct.

That was the most touchy aspect, of course. Instigating doubt while maintaining the impression of utter loyalty—they were almost certainly failing, but it was the extent that mattered.

“Speak to their intelligence,” Bra’tac had said. “For you cannot know their hearts, but a Jaffa will always have a mind that he values.”

Jolinar had taken that, and as the planet mended, she’d dropped all the hints she could.

“Well done, Drey’dac,” she said, as he reported that the fields were clean and proper cultivation could continue. “You have done the role of our god, protecting her interests.”

Drey’dac contemplated her words openly for a couple seconds, and then moved on.

Jolinar prepared her next salvo.

“Just as Quetesh rules with intelligence and tolerance, so you have matched her in achieving much on this planet,” Jolinar said to Sheryen, watching the now-cooperative Abydonians repair the last few buildings in the village in less time than planned.

Sheryen barely paid her mind, but she knew he would think of them later.  
_  
~These sound a bit cheesy, actually,~_ said Sam.  
_  
*We have been subtle for some time. Heavy handed is allowed.*  
_  
Sam had to admit, Jolinar had her convinced when she reminded her of exactly how the Goa’uld spoke. Growing up in that kind of atmosphere—maybe the Jaffa wouldn’t think it cheesy. Still, some of them were sharp-minded.

ooooooo

“Dan’yel, look at this,” Sha’re called across the ground. The sun was high on P3X-808, and Daniel had to squint to see her. She was with Lieutenant Thomas of SG-6, who was squatting by something.

Daniel walked over, avoiding the tools that someone had left lying along the pathway, his brow furrowed. “I thought there wasn’t anything over here.”

“Well, there was this weird lump here that we thought was a rock,” said Thomas, sunglasses and a bandanna making him look less scholarly than he actually was. He indicated a non-descript lump in the excavated area.

“But I feel it, like the technology of the Goa’uld,” said Sha’re, her arms lightly crossed over her chest.

 “You mean it has naquadah in it?” Daniel asked, curious.

Sha’re nodded. “It feels the same, only lesser.”

“And now look,” said Thomas, using his big brush to clean off the top of it.

Daniel squatted, adjusting his glasses to get a good look. What had seemed merely lumpy before now seemed to be a broken design, probably of entwined snakes. “Oh, that is interesting.”

“This is a bit strange for a Goa’uld world, isn’t it?” Thomas asked, sitting back on his heels.

Daniel brushed more delicately at the still half-buried object. “Um, why?” he asked, not really paying attention.

“Well, we don’t normally find abandoned worlds without good reason,” said Thomas. “There are ruins, sure, but they’re of cultures the Goa’uld wiped out. Goa’uld planets are taken over by other Goa’uld, so there’s no technology left unused.”

“Maybe there was an uprising,” Daniel suggested. He tried to guess what kind of material it was made of, but it didn’t look like a machine; he’d have to check to see if it really was naquadah, and if it was used for construction or power.

“Well, we haven’t found evidence of civilization at all,” said Thomas, standing up and stretching out his back. “That’s what’s weird.”

“I did not even think to focus on my senses before,” Sha’re said, brow firm as she contemplated. “Only, when I was with the Tok’ra, naquadah was all around me. On Earth, I had almost forgotten what it felt like. Today—it was like the hint of an old smell, that those who do not know cannot notice.”

Daniel stood up, looking to her. She seemed interested in it, but he wondered why the sense wasn’t a painful reminder. The Goa’uld should not have been a pleasant reminder. Ah, but she had said Tok’ra—now he remembered. She gave him a slight smile when she caught him looking, and he thought about how much more of the universe she knew than him, or any of them.

“You may have quite the archaeological gift, then,” said Thomas with a smile. “At least for SGC digs.”

Sha’re smiled back at him. “I should like to go around the rest of this place, maybe even more of the planet; I think I can find any Goa’uld technology if I concentrate on feeling it.”

“Don’t you have a kid?” Thomas asked, suddenly noticing that neither Daniel nor Sha’re had the sling or backpack.

“But of course not,” Sha’re said earnestly. “Lieutenant, you must have been imagining it.”

Thomas laughed, shaking a finger at her and her broad smile. “Funny.”

“Major Matthews is watching him,” said Sha’re, more serious but still smiling. “He had too much sun yesterday, and so I did not want him to accompany me here.”

“Matthews?” said Thomas, slight incredulity in his tone.

Daniel shared the same thought—kid friendly from a distance, maybe, but not a father. “Maybe I should go check on him.”

“If you wish for a break, Dan’yel, perhaps you and he may come with me as I walk the forest to feel for more naquadah,” Sha’re offered.

“That sounds fine,” said Daniel. “I’ll get the little guy, then, if he’s not napping.”

They walked back towards the encampment. It was so quiet offworld, so natural. It wasn’t anything like Abydos, but with Sha’re and even Shifu it gave him that same feeling. Family and work all in one peaceful mixture. Their war with the Goa’uld made most of that impossible in the SGC, but Daniel appreciated times like these.

ooooooo

The plan was in flux on Dorieth now. Things had been set in motion for a while now, with a goal in sight, even if it wasn’t firmly attached to a time yet. Frustratingly, however, they weren’t the only ones capable of thinking and planning.

Kasuf managed to be near the gate as representatives were leaving, and managed to be on the alert for catching the address. As far as he knew, he reported to Sam and Jolinar secretly, it was the address to Quetesh’s breeding planet. The planet where she used her slaves to breed more specialized slaves, as well as the hosts for her favorite lieutenants. They’d almost forgotten this point, and it was still unfamiliar enough for Sam that she shuddered on thinking about it.

“Many of my people are there,” Kasuf urged. “I know that you are not here for them alone, but can you not find some way to save them before it is too late? We need only a little help to escape. Abydos is ready and waiting.”

Jolinar didn’t know that for sure, despite the fact that it was probably a good guess. The issue, however, was the danger of compromising their entire position to help the Abydonians.

They dismissed Kasuf for that day, needing time and space to think. Jolinar was ready to grit her teeth and say no—patience was important, and the eventual rescue of all these people was their goal. Sam was close to agreeing, but she had not been able to numb herself to the reality of what Quetesh was doing. Violation, not just humiliation.

Jolinar froze on that subject, not wanting to think on it. Sam couldn’t distance herself that far yet. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to, even though she thought she knew why Jolinar did.

But they didn’t have time to make up their mind before Kasuf was back again. Jolinar’s first reaction was frustration, but even Sam couldn’t know why—maybe Jolinar didn’t understand it all herself. She didn’t seem to want to try. All she knew was that Kasuf was pushing, with very little regard to the precarious situation.

“Please,” he begged, and her frustration couldn’t be extreme because all they saw in his eyes was the urgent plea of a man who saw himself as the father of all these people. “Anything. We need only a chance.”

Again, Jolinar barely gave a response, pushing him away so they could have more time to think.  
_  
*This may destroy our plan.*_

~And it may not. What are a few hundred slaves in revolt, especially when they’re already established as troublesome? How could it affect us?~

*Apart from the likelihood that our involvement will be obvious?*

~I don’t know. I don’t know.~

Other issues troubled them for a time, and Kasuf was not as pushy as he could have been. But it had only been a couple days, and they still had no idea what they should do.  
_  
~Is there a way that Martouf and Lantash could help instead? Or at least, we could get their opinion.~  
_  
Jolinar was unsure. They hadn’t received any information about Quetesh, or Martouf and Lantash, since the Tok’ra’s decree that contact should be lessened for security’s sake. It was only natural, she supposed, but part of her worried. Why hadn’t Quetesh done anything about Dorieth? Was she trying to keep up a good face by pretending that it wasn’t a destruction of her plan? What about other, darker, possibilities?

Sam sighed, not wanting to get distracted by this. Not wanting to get distracted by Kasuf, either. They did not need more complications.

Except, they had come so far. Jolinar wasn’t ready to let this mission take over the original purpose. Which was to save Sha’re’s people, since Sam and Jolinar were almost directly responsible for their current state. Once they both actively acknowledged this, they couldn’t forget it again.

Hesitantly, they sent Kasuf a bare message: we will try.

ooooooo

“What do you mean we can’t contact Earth?” Daniel asked, trying not to sound as worried as he felt. Sha’re stood beside him, and seemed to unconsciously put out a hand to touch Shifu as he lay in Daniel’s arms.

Major Matthews sighed, hand resting on the DHD. “I mean, we can dial just fine, but there’s no connection to Earth.

The rest of SG-6 stood around as well, shifting, frowning.

Daniel thought out loud. “This is our scheduled time, right?” Matthews nodded. The next possibility came up just fast enough to be a little worrisome. “So, the gate’s down?”

Matthews grunted. “That’s my guess.”

“Well, that happens,” said Thomas, a bit more lightly. “I mean, we’ve all been there when it did.”

“Yeah, I’ll just try in a few hours,” said Matthews with a sigh. “Y’all just get back to work, or rest, or something.”

Daniel sighed. He wasn’t really worried, other than the small part of him that was always a knot of apprehension about something.

“Dan’yel, are you really so impatient to leave a task of your specialty?” Sha’re asked, finding amusement in something.

Daniel smiled. All the times he’d regretted joining SG-1 and dropping all the specialized missions—and now, he was being unnaturally opposite. “I guess I’m worried about the team,” he said. “And Shifu—offworld isn’t the safest.”

“Offworld on this world, at least,” Sha’re corrected. She peered over the edge of the sling that Daniel was using to help cradle their child. “But he is remarkably asleep in any case.”

Daniel looked down. “So he is.”

“Strange how it seems remarkable some days,” commented Sha’re, exhaling and resting a hand on her hip. “Well, Dan’yel, perhaps another walk? We have not explored this place fully.”

He had almost forgotten the rest of the planet, caught up in the strange ruins that so far had only given dead ends. “Yes, yes, of course,” he said.

Waiting around would only make him jittery anyway, and it was unlikely that this delay meant anything in the end. They’d be checking in to the SGC in a matter of hours, and McKay would be thoroughly protesting that it wasn’t his fault, and that would be that. For now, there was still some of this planet that was possibly interesting, if only it were explored.

ooooooo

With all that was going on, nothing was happening slow enough for Sam or Jolinar. The Abydonians on the planet, the other slaves, the Jaffa, and their duty as Coron—all had been plenty of mental work. This request of Kasuf’s was only going to be more difficult.

If nothing else mattered, Jolinar had no doubt that they could arrive on the breeding world, find the Abydonians, and get them offworld before their disguise faltered. But they needed this disguise. They’d need it for a long time yet.  
_  
*This is insanity either way.*  
_  
Jolinar already felt guilty for allowing herself to feel guilty for something they couldn’t do yet—with all that, Sam wasn’t sure what her own thoughts were. Except that as always, she would look for options.  
_  
~Can we just give them the keys, or something like that~_ Sam asked. _~Surely they’re motivated enough to make their own escape.~_

Experience from a dozen missions made Jolinar want to say no, but she stopped herself short._ *I’m not the one to know.*  
_  
That didn’t surprise Sam, given the little glimpses she’d had about Jolinar’s past missions. Only now had she been so focused on the human slaves. _~So, what does your intuition say?~_

*Too simplistic,* Jolinar answered, and like most times, Sam felt confident in even such a quick estimation.  
_  
~Right ballpark, though?~  
_  
Jolinar almost instantly picked up on these idioms now. _*Maybe.*  
_  
They figured out only a second later that they were missing one important factor—how Quetesh’s breeding world operated.

Biting her lip at this complication, Sam waited until that late that night. Foregoing sleep again, as soon as the quietest and easiest shift was at work, she went through the gate using the address Kasuf had provided.

It was no different from the ones Jolinar remembered, or the one that Sam had seen on a world of Heru’ur (and that seemed so long ago). But they had become so close to this, so close to these people.

Evening marked this planet, and though children ran through the streets almost unguarded, everywhere else a heavy hand showed. Young men and women in clean fresh robes, escorted with heads low by Jaffa. Older men and women, shabbily garbed and their expressions matching their clothes. Most of these women appeared pregnant, but very few were on the streets. Neither Sam nor Jolinar wanted to imagine fully what went on behind the walls—people would always make the best of things, especially when children were at stake, but that didn’t cover anything.  
_  
*Especially since Quetesh most likely does away with those who do not or cannot serve her exact needs.*  
_  
Sam couldn’t think of the children as playful after that.

The slaves on this world were highly segregated, and the buildings had higher security than on Dorieth or other Goa’uld worlds. Here it was not for fear of rebellion, just for organization’s sake. Jolinar made Sam aware that not all Goa’uld were like this; Quetesh was particularly obsessed with this aspect of her reign.

Sam wondered, doubting their plan for a moment. What if Quetesh made the connection between disasters befalling her two obsessions, the temple and this breeding world?  
_  
*We are not making a move yet,*_ said Jolinar, neither assuring nor assured.  
_  
~It is at least only a short distance to the gate,~ _commented Sam, glancing at the heavily treed landscape beyond this cleared area.

They couldn’t stay long, not when it was difficult enough to explain to the Jaffa who saw them that they were performing their duty; at some point, they would be bound to run across one who would have the authority to question that.

Frowning, worried, and with no firm plan to try in place, they made it back through the gate. It was near dawn on Dorieth, and no huge shadow of a temple in the grey light—Sam hadn’t gotten used to that.

Only seconds after leaving the gate and walking down the path, however, they heard the rushing sound of an incoming wormhole. A chevron locked, and Sam whirled around. This was not expected.

No time to go back to the village, where they would normally be found, but would it look right to be standing there waiting?  
_  
*It’s likely just an emergency message,*_ Jolinar said, hastily.

The swirl of the unstable wormhole burst forth from the gate, and Sam made her decision. Brow creased, she walked back up the path towards the stargate.

Her heart skipped a beat when no frantic messenger came through. Instead, two heavily armed and armored Jaffa, who then stood to either side.

Even Jolinar wasn’t optimistic enough to think that it was Martouf and Lantash arriving as Tirnin, and Sam just worried in the few seconds there were. She took a deep breath, holding herself high. The Jaffa said nothing, and a few seconds later, Quetesh walked through the gate.

This was an answer to one of their biggest questions and worries—but with no context. Quetesh stood in the dim light, dark hair framing the contrasting pale skin of her face. Her eyes flashed like sparks in the night, and Sam was close enough to read her stance.

Anger.


	27. Disaster

Sam’s heart fell like a rock on seeing Quetesh there, even though she could have half guessed as soon as the Jaffa walked through. This was not the time, not at all. She scrambled for all her mental resources, Jolinar settling firmly as her back on everything, waiting for what to say.

Quetesh said nothing, and so Sam bowed in silent greeting and respect. When her head rose, Quetesh still stood there—everything was silent, on edge, the smolder before the flames caught. No birds, no breathing, no voices.

And no temple beyond. Sam wondered if Quetesh was staring right through them with her still-glowing eyes. _~So the wait’s over—and I thought we were more ready for a reaction than this.~_

“My lord,” Sam finally said aloud, bowing her head. “We had no word.”

“And it is clear that you fail to be ready,” Quetesh broke in, words smooth. She edged a couple steps forward, now thoroughly looking through Sam down towards the valley.

“We are always ready for my lord, if you will just come this way,” Sam said, trying to make it not sound like a hasty retreat.

“No,” Quetesh said. Jolinar adjusted Sam’s eyes to the dim light, and she could see a disdain on Quetesh’s face. “This planet does not even step near to worthiness. I will not let it sully me more—Coron, come.” The goddess turned swiftly, only her last word sounding more like a snap then the cool voice of authority.

She nodded to a Jaffa who walked to the DHD and began to dial.

Sam turned to her one Jaffa there, saying below her breath. “Awaken your commander—tell him what has happened, and keep all going as planned.” All they had to do was keep the planet going until Sam and Jolinar’s return.  
_  
*This will be a more difficult meeting than last,*_ Jolinar warned, but her words were superfluous.

Once again in the pre-morning, the gate flashed open, and Quetesh’s Jaffa walked in ahead of her. Sam and Jolinar were the last to go, Sam taking a breath before walking through.

It was no surprise on the other side—the gold and grey metal of the interior of a Goa’uld ship. Sam was immediately struck by the size, though. Much more like cathedral hallways than that of a cramped ship. _~We’re on her mothership, aren’t we?~  
_  
Jolinar didn’t need to answer specifically. There had been a reason she’d referred to it as the flagship.

Standing for a moment, Sam just concentrated on breathing and holding herself high but not too high in posture. Quetesh turned slowly, nodding to each Jaffa to leave until only one of hers was left standing guard by the gate.

“This is how a god is supposed to grant audience,” Quetesh said, almost a hiss in the deep, flanged Goa’uld voice.

Sam bowed again, as Jolinar tried to stop her heart from pounding. “I beg pardon for any failure,” she said, head still lowered.

“Do you?” Quetesh questioned, stepping closer to her. Her long dark gown hugged close to her, guarding more than flaunting, but Sam could almost feel the danger coming through. “What has your investigation into the destruction of my temple uncovered?”

Sam was momentarily surprised by the demand. “My lord, we had no lead,” she said. “There is no one on Dorieth who might seem suspicious.”

“Fool,” Quetesh said in a low voice. “What gives you such insolence to make a determination such as this? Is it not your god’s will that you should be serving? Is it not your god’s will that no stone be left unturned before this traitor is found?”  
_  
*She is right, if all she cares about is vengeance,* _Jolinar admitted. _*But speak to her of efficiency; there is still a chance that she values boldness, even if she dare not admit it so fully.*_

“We received no command from you, my lord,” Sam said, bowing her head again. “We sought to be ready for your next command, and that required all efforts to be for the restoration of Dorieth.”

“All efforts,” Quetesh said, the glint in her eye matched by the quirk of her mouth. “And then why were you standing by the chappa’ai on Dorieth? What purpose served you there?”

She had noticed. They’d been afraid of that. “Only an errand to another world,” Sam said.

“And for what purpose?” demanded Quetesh.

Sam realized that the Goa’uld had moved closer, almost imperceptibly. She was only a few paces away from Sam in the hallway of the ship, and suddenly it was feeling smaller. “To make sure that your orders were being followed upon, after you called for the transfer of some slaves,” Sam said, Jolinar’s focus helping her make something up on the spot. She still stood tall, eye level with Quetesh, but her role reminded her how small she actually was.

Quetesh let the less-than-perfect excuse hang for a second in the air. The power was in her hands, as always, and she exercised it. Jolinar’s quiet discomfort was turning into fear-driven anger at being forced to this.

“Again,” the Goa’uld said in a icy smooth voice, staring Sam straight in the eye. “Again, you venture outside your realm of authority. This is a dangerous pattern, Coron. And one that I do not think natural for a Jaffa.”

Sam didn’t even have time to blink—Quetesh’s hand was in the air and suddenly she couldn’t see a thing. They’d missed the hand device that Quetesh was wearing, only now they were blinded and forced backwards, the beam tearing into their forehead.

Sam gasped, unable to see, unable almost to think, physically and mentally feeling as if she was on fire. Jolinar was there, slightly removed as she had retreated to keep guard.  
_  
*She will interrogate, or kill, or both,* _Jolinar informed.

They could barely comprehend. Sam tried only to keep all her mind on Dorieth, on Quetesh’s work—it was hardly anything she needed to do, as that had been filling her thoughts before. But her knees started to tremble, her head throbbing, and she wondered if it would matter. Did Quetesh plan to execute them here? She didn’t have the muscle strength to reach for her zat to retaliate. She was completely helpless.

All she could sense was the fire, behind and in front of her eyes. Her breaths started to come as gasps, even as Jolinar tried to do something, and then all in a moment she felt a new sensation. Heard it too, and smelled it. The ink of their temporary tattoo was sizzling, burning under the power of the hand device.

And then it was gone. Gulping in a breath as the hand-device released them, Sam sunk involuntarily to her knees.  
_  
*Oh no,*_ thought Jolinar.

Sam was shaken, weak, and didn’t know exactly what had just happened. Until it hit her a second later. She looked up, and there was Quetesh, standing over them with a self-satisfied smirk. If Sam’s heart could drop any further in her chest, it did. She didn’t need Jolinar to know that the gig was up. Quetesh knew they were a spy.

“Not Jaffa, then,” Quetesh said, more for the dramatic air than a need to express what was obvious to them all.

They were so doomed, and as Jolinar tried to give strength back, Sam’s hand trembled and tried to reach for her zat. Quetesh hadn’t killed them with that blast, not yet.

“And no Goa’uld would stoop to this level,” Quetesh continued.

Sam couldn’t pull her eyes away from that face, glowing with the expectation of full control and power. But just as her shaking fingers found the cool hilt of the zat, suddenly there was a blur of movement. She heard a snap and felt the blow to her jaw, then found herself flung back against the wall. Her head cracked, the pain shot down her spine, and her breath dislodged from her chest. Quetesh had struck her in the face.

“Seize this Tok’ra traitor,” Quetesh hissed, even these words full of pleasure at what she had just accomplished.  
_  
*I should have—*_ thought Jolinar for a brief second. But then she and Sam both felt the warm trickle of blood from the back of her head, even as they were stopped from slipping down the wall by the Jaffa who roughly gripped one shoulder.

Jolinar retreated again, trying to stop the injury. Sam’s vision was a little blurry, as the Jaffa pulled her back to Quetesh. She barely felt the Goa’uld’s hand pushing aside her chainmail, finding for certain that the pouch was a facsimile.

“So, the Tok’ra have interest in me now,” Quetesh said, half-drawling the words with a proud pleasure in her accomplishment.

She can’t know, she can’t guess. Neither Sam nor Jolinar had distinct thoughts, only they knew that the mission couldn’t be compromised. Quetesh couldn’t become suspicious. Suddenly Jolinar was in control, saying words that Sam had not anticipated.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Jolinar spat, even through a voice as shaky as her eyesight. Their head throbbed both in front and behind. “It was nothing so grand—only a personal demonstration to your people of how inconsequential your powers to protect them are.” Jolinar’s words slid out like venomous acid.

Quetesh’s hand, fingers sheathed by the Goa’uld device, found Jolinar’s chin and forced it up. She stared down, eyes alight with cruel gold. “Jolinar,” she said, and then laughed, harshly.

Jolinar closed her eyes for a second. _*I am sorry for this,* _she said.

But Sam was realizing that there wasn’t anything else to be done.

Quetesh spoke again. “And here I almost thought you had retained your intelligence, even committing cowardly treason as you did,” she said, gripping Jolinar’s chin, the sharp edges of the metal threatening to cut into her skin.

“Fooled you thrice—and you only matched it this once,” Jolinar said, through clenching teeth. “Who is the greater fool?”

Quetesh leaned closer, gripping harder to make Jolinar breathe out through tight jaw. “It is not the one who gains the final victory,” the Goa’uld said.

“Then the question is still undecided,” Jolinar hissed back.

Quetesh stood, lifting Jolinar by the chin, Jolinar barely able to keep from hanging there as her legs did not want to support her. “Not for long,” Quetesh answered. She let Jolinar go for a second, nodding to her Jaffa.

Jolinar stumbled, almost falling to her knees, and only just caught herself as the Jaffa stripped her zat from her. Then Quetesh’s hand was gripping her neck, dragging her up and forward, and Quetesh started taking long strides down one of the hallways leading from this gateroom.  
_  
~Are we going to be dead?~_ asked Sam, unable to think of anything but simple questions.  
_  
*Not yet,*_ Jolinar answered, honestly and yet not. But she wouldn’t think about the future—maybe she couldn’t.

Their head still aching, Quetesh dragged them into the middle of a ring platform, and they couldn’t catch the symbols before the light flashed and they were on another deck of the flagship. Again, Quetesh was dragging them as they stumbled down the hall, armor clanking. A minute later, and Quetesh threw them into a room.

Jolinar crashed to the floor, still without the strength to immediately fight back—and immediately would have been their only chance, as another two Jaffa stepped in to grab their arms. The armor was roughly stripped from them, the small weapons discovered and taken, and then the clink of chains told them what else they needed to know. Their eyes confirmed it as Jolinar looked up. This was a prison cell.

They now lay half slumped against a wall, wrists attached to chains just loose enough to allow their arms to droop limply. It had all happened fast, too fast, way too fast for their mind still muddled by both hand-device and concussion.

“Your personal revenge may have proven your own downfall, as you could have predicted,” Quetesh said, as the Jaffa left the cell and slammed it shut, locking it firmly.

Jolinar could barely see her, and she once again retreated to work on healing the physical damage. Sam didn’t feel in control, and all she could do was listen.

“But it is not only the personal that will satisfy me,” Quetesh continued. “No, you were indeed a fool to attempt this, knowing what you do of the Tok’ra. But I need not explain this to you, surely.”

Sam felt her head droop, eyes closing, her head’s throbbing overwhelming and not lessening. _~Jolinar?~  
_  
She barely heard Quetesh walk away, shoes clicking on the stone floors, dress sweeping away. Left alone in the cell, Sam sunk even further. The chains were too short for her to lie down on the floor, but she could lean against the wall. The wall of a prison cell, in Quetesh’s flagship, where she was now known to be a Tok’ra spy.  
_  
~Oh god,~_ she said to herself, and then she blacked out.

ooooooo

“Okay, now this is actually trouble,” Matthews said, a hand resting on his belt.

The rest of SG-6 and Daniel and Sha’re stood around, having just watched the gate fail to open again. They’d waited a couple hours and redialed Earth, only to have it malfunction. “They can’t always be superfast with the fixing,” Matthews had said, and everyone had agreed. It was late, so they’d settled down to spend the night there.

This morning, however—again, no luck dialing the gate.

“Major gate overhaul, maybe?” Captain Lewis asked, more calm than the rest as he leaned against a large boulder.

“No, we’d have heard of that,” Dr. Donald said. He was SG-6’s scientist, dealing mainly in forensics but with a slight side interest in how that related to archaeology.

“The gate could be destroyed,” said Thomas in a low tone.

Daniel felt a bolt of fear run through him, and his arm around Sha’re’s waist tightened, holding her safely to him.

“Uh-uh,” said Matthews, putting up a hand. “That’s the last thing we should be thinking.”

“Okay,” said Lewis, resting his arms across his chest. “It’s not like we can know for sure, so what are our options for things to do.”

“Good question,” said Matthews, waving his hand around to indicate them all, and raising an eyebrow. “What’s protocol?”

“Well, if it goes too far we’re supposed to contact the Alpha Site, but there’s no actual time limit,” said Donald, scrunching his face and scratching worriedly at the edge of his beard.

“I think 24 hours is a good limit, don’t you?” said Matthews, fairly rhetoric as he was with all his questions. “At least for radio contact. Donald, dial the gate please.”

Sha’re looked up at Daniel, saying softly. “What do you think this means?”

“I don’t know,” Daniel whispered back. “I don’t know.”

ooooooo

Sam came back to reality with a nausea in her stomach. Her world felt empty and silent, and the nausea twisted fiercely with a rush of pure fear.  
_  
~Jolinar?~_ She reached out for her one constant, not immediately finding her.

But she was there. More worn, and almost more frightened, but their fears were quickly tightening into one without words.

Sam had control of their body, breathing in, and it didn’t hurt. _~It isn’t over yet, is it?~_

*No,* said Jolinar, her voice coming out weakly. _*No, we have failed miserably, but not quickly.*  
_  
Sam felt a crick in her neck and tried to move her head a few inches. It didn’t overwhelm her with pain, thanks to Jolinar, but she felt groggy all the same. Bringing a hand to her face to wipe at the blood drying itchily there, she felt and heard the clank of the chains, and her heart skipped a beat. _~God, this was a disaster.~_

*I cannot say otherwise. I am sorry, Samantha, but it is only going to get worse. We are not going to be killed yet, not while there is a chance that Quetesh may glean some information.*  
  
Even Jolinar couldn’t keep the physical symptoms of fear under control, and Sam’s mouth was dry and her heart racing. _~So what, torture?~_ It was hardly a question that needed to be asked, locked up in the prison of a Goa’uld known for sadistic enjoyment of the pain of others.  
_  
*We should be able to resist—I have been through this before. But there is no end but death unless I can see a way out. With any other Goa’uld, maybe, but this is Quetesh and she knows me. I—*  
_  
Jolinar’s thoughts trailed off, nausea almost sending them both into retching as the fear broiled. If Jolinar didn’t have a hope—if she couldn’t see an end—Sam wasn’t ready for this. Jolinar wasn’t either, especially not like this.  
_  
~Can we do anything?~_ Sam needed something that she could think on, even if it proved hopeless. Something to keep her mind working.  
_  
*For others to live, we must fight now. Quetesh cannot discover Martouf and Lantash, or the Abydonians’ cooperation, or any information that may be used against the Tok’ra. And if we are afraid and nervous, it will only be too easy.*_

~Jolinar, I know, but are you saying you can just calm down?~

*What else is there to do?*

Jolinar’s weak words just made their desperation more real. Sam was trying to calm down, trying to think of others, but all she felt was Jolinar’s memory of exactly how cruel Quetesh could be. And if Jolinar, who had been under torture before, could feel that—Sam had no sense of what to expect, and so she could only expect the very worst.

Sam kept her eyes closed, her arms resting loosely across her chest. With Jolinar she worked on breathing in, breathing out, and trying to force order on her senses. Whatever happened, if they were doomed to die here, they needed to go out in control of everything. Neither of them could bear to die having given up information—together, surely they could will another goal.

No pomp accompanied Quetesh when she returned. It had most likely been hours, hours of sitting and breathing and Jolinar not letting Sam think about the torture in Jolinar’s past. Quetesh had added a long sleeved leather coat over her dark dress, short horn-like spikes adorning the shoulders and running down the sleeves to cover the back of her hands. No longer merely elegant and ornate, this was the to-business side of Quetesh. The practical side, if she had one. And that business was fear.

The two Jaffa guards who had stood at the cell door were dismissed several paces down the hall on either side, after unlocking the cell door and letting Quetesh in before locking it again. Quetesh carried a small box in one hand, and she smiled glitteringly as she placed it on the shelf along the cell wall.

“I was too hasty earlier,” she said, voice softly reverberating off the walls, the metallic purr of self-satisfaction. She stood over Sam and Jolinar, still standing tall and straight.

Jolinar didn’t move or speak.

“In my anger at having to deal with your disgusting presence once again, I almost lost control,” Quetesh continued, glancing down without stooping her head. She smiled. “But it is well that I am a god, and can make no error.” She let one of her long arms fall, the tip of one finger flicking the tip of Jolinar’s chin. “This is too much a prize to waste through unconsidered acts of passion.”

“It might have worked better for you,” Jolinar said, clearing her throat a little as she once again used her natural voice, sounding husky after so much time as Coron. “Caught off guard is the only way you could possibly hope to sway me.”

“You may think what you wish, of course,” said Quetesh, still smiling. “That is what is so amusing, the delusions of one of the least of the children of our mother Neith.” With a light sigh, Quetesh took a seat on the bench nearest Jolinar, leaning down with dripping condescension. “To sway a mind, one must first break it.”

“I break only upon death,” Jolinar assured, her stare holding Quetesh’s from beneath hooded eyes. Sam whispered to herself that she could believe that, she would believe that.

Quetesh laughed, a hollow laugh, more to mock than out of any amusement. “There are so many ways to break, Jolinar,” she said. “Humiliation and degradation, crude tools but most useful. I know you too well to try them here, but for accuracy’s sake I mention them.” She leaned a little closer, looking Jolinar straight in the eye. “The mind—never whole or wholly impenetrable.”

The fear was under control, this talk no more than they had expected. Jolinar held the control, Sam backing her as strongly as she could. They watched as Quetesh rose from her seat.

“Still,” Quetesh said, with a half a sigh, “it is so delicate and difficult to break through the mind all at once.” She bent down swiftly, finding Jolinar’s left hand and slamming it against the wall. It almost didn’t hurt, just bruising the knuckles, until Quetesh flipped her hand, letting the spike on the end of the sleeve press against Jolinar’s palm. “And yet there is physical breaking,” Quetesh said in a low voice, her face close to Jolinar’s again.

She pressed down, and there was a sharp jolt of pain as the spike dug into Jolinar’s palm. In the moment, Sam couldn’t tell that she was supposed to be buried behind Jolinar’s mind—the pain was just as piercing. Quetesh slowly pushed the spike in, and Jolinar didn’t look, only gritted her jaw and tried not to focus on the burning and the trickle of warm blood already starting to seep.

“Ah yes, the limits of the body of a host,” said Quetesh. “And of yours, Jolinar. These are so much easier to find, and even the mind cannot provide significant protection.”

Jolinar tried to keep a steady breathing pace, but Quetesh pushed harder, then as the short spike was buried to its hilt, she twisted, and the pain throbbed agonizingly up their arm. Sam tried to not see, tried to not hear, tried to maintain her presence like a rock to lean upon—so that she might not feel the pain and so that Jolinar need not feel as if she might fall.

“But then the breaking of a body is only enjoyable, not useful,” concluded Quetesh. She whipped the spike from Jolinar’s hand, and Jolinar didn’t have the presence of mind to break its fall.

The blood started to pool in her palm, and Jolinar brought her other hand over, pressing against the wound as she sought to still the bleeding.

“And so why not both?” Quetesh asked, her voice light again. “Break the body to break the mind to break the body, and all so carefully done. I have no need to hurry, no information so urgent that I must fight time to break you. The only thing I fight against is you, Jolinar. Your armor, and your healing.”

Jolinar closed her eyes for a second, left hand starting to tremble even as the bleeding slowed. Sam was still holding strong, but she had heard. Was Jolinar’s healing a weapon against Quetesh, or just a way to prolong their suffering? It would have been both, only that Jolinar might be able to stop some of the pain, or change it.

Quetesh turned from Jolinar, and in the quiet of the cell Jolinar heard the tiny splash from the drop of blood that fell from Quetesh’s armored hand. The Goa’uld took the box she had brought from the shelf, opening it and taking out something too small to see.

“No, Jolinar, your armor will not last for long,” Quetesh said, stepping closer. “Soon it will be just you and me—history repeating itself, only the proper way.”

Quetesh grabbed Jolinar’s hair in a tight fist, yanking her head down so the neck was exposed. Then a piercing pain at the back of the neck, and the cold feeling of an injection that almost immediately started to burn. Sam suddenly felt herself pushed forward in her mind as Jolinar physically spasmed, the injection going straight into her actual body. Sam was in control, looking back up as Quetesh smiled down on them, holding the small injector in her hand.

“Now, shall we let that sink in a little first?” Quetesh asked, twisted amusement in both smile and voice.

Except Sam could barely read her face, as Jolinar still shook, and Sam was reminded just how closely they were entwined. Her muscles started to randomly jerk, and if she’d been standing she would have felt dizzy.  
_  
~Jol?~_ she asked.  
_  
*She is inhibiting me somehow,* _Jolinar answered shakily. They were almost on the point of heaving again._ *I can only speak, only think.*_

Sam felt her body settle to a slight tremble, but the burn at the back of her throat where Jolinar lay now spread, descending to the tips of her limbs. Already the ache in her hand felt on fire, the blood only just stopped as Jolinar lost her healing abilities.

Jolinar’s silent revelation hit Sam more strongly. They had been overconfident. It was what had got them into this mess, what had led them to all their mistakes, and what was now leaving them without an option. Quetesh had now stripped it from them, leaving them vulnerable and guilty and afraid.  
_  
*We can’t be,* _Jolinar said, struggling to regain control.

And Sam didn’t want to, but all she could see was Quetesh standing over them. And her fear of death left her empty inside.


	28. Torment

_Warning - scenes of graphic torture_

Life was torment when you waited with no end in sight.

Matthews had contacted the Alpha Site, but no one knew anything about Earth. SG-6 was advised to stay in their current location, assuming it was safe, and carry on with their mission if possible. The Alpha Site would check in with them, along with any other offworld teams that were stranded, every 24 hours.

“And that’s that,” said Matthews with a sigh.

They were all worried, possibly close to panic, but held it in. What if the Goa’uld had finally snuck past Earth’s meager defenses? What if it was another hostile alien race?

No one thought about gate malfunctions as an option any more. Were the gate truly unoperational for this long, they would have brought in the Antarctic gate. No one mentioned this, because it meant that something probably disastrous had happened to their home planet. But it seemed like the only option.

Daniel focused back on an archaeology dig he had been prepared to leave. Sha’re borrowed Thomas’ few books on the subject, bouncing Shifu on one knee as she buried herself in the text. He knew the feeling all too well to question it in her.

Another day came and went, another night with Sha’re and Shifu in his arms under the stars. Another check-up on the Alpha Site, and still no word.

There was almost nothing left to be archaeologically discovered. No more ruins or remains, and the ones they’d found already examined. Daniel had always regretted that SG-1 never had enough time to fully explore. Now he did, and there wasn’t much there.

Thomas and Donald started work on their mission reports, Lewis and Matthews alternated between standing the required guard and wandering off to waste time. Daniel just looked at the artifacts, over and over, wondering if he could will himself to find something significant.

Another day, another night, another check-up. The Alpha Site had heard from SG-4, but no other team. According to the schedule, SG-10 was supposed to be out for another couple days, so it was possible that they hadn’t checked back in. Other than that, though, they were all the people from Earth they could contact.

“At some point we need to contact our allies,” said Matthews, relaying the information. “But especially the Asgard—the Nox and the Tollan if we can manage ‘em. Sending a ship to Earth is the only way we’ll know squat for sure.”

“And if not?” Dr. Donald asked, more worry than challenge in his voice.

“Then we beg for asylum as refugees,” Matthews said, jaw set.

It was only then that it hit Daniel that all his friends would have been on Earth. He was the only member of SG-1 to go offworld during that time frame. And not only SG-1, but Dr. Frasier, the Millers, Dr. Jordan, Sara O’Neill, and anyone and everyone he’d been connected to. All centered around his homeworld.

He held onto Sha’re, feeling worried and weak, just holding her and feeling Shifu between them, the only sparks of life he knew. She knew how he felt, for her people were still out there. Skaara, still a host; Kasuf, a prisoner of another Goa’uld. Even though most of her people were safe, she still ached for those in slavery.

With Sha’re at his side, Daniel started taking walks, moving so that his mind would not rest and be lost in the waiting. The waiting might kill him.

Another day, another night, another update, and still no one could contact Earth.

ooooooo

Life was torment when you waited with no end in sight.

Quetesh didn’t ask questions at first. She let her hand device do the talking, its beam reaching into Sam and Jolinar’s mind, twisting and muddling and blending any conscious thoughts they had. It still burned from the last time—now they wanted to scream, and yet couldn’t. Sam felt like her mind would melt away; Jolinar dreaded because she knew it wouldn’t.

Quetesh grew tired of the hand device and brought forward a Jaffa torture stick, and Sam gasped and collapsed forward in pain but it wasn’t significantly worse when the forked ends of the stick was jabbed into their stomach. She cried out voicelessly, the pain ripping through her body, and her mind wanted to retreat into Jolinar’s, except Jolinar’s was writhing as well. In the world of pain, each new addition didn’t hurt so much more, as long as they didn’t have time to remember what no pain felt like.

Quetesh watched carefully, measuring with cold eyes the tremors and shakes and sweat, finally stopping as some imaginary limit was reached. Sam and Jolinar were bent over, unable to crumple fully on the floor due to the short chains. But they hung limply, forehead taking comfort in resting on the cold metal that soothed the burn.

Jolinar couldn’t slow their heart, or even keep it at a steady beat. Sam was still in control, if she could think of it like that, but retreating back against Jolinar’s consciousness in her mind. Her breaths came in ragged, uneven gulps, each one hurting as all her nerves were on fire. But the overwhelming pain that felt like death started to fade.

“So simple,” Quetesh murmured above them. She reached down a hand, pulling their head up by the hair, looking into Sam’s pain-ravaged face. “So fragile, and yet always forgetting and taking pride.”

Sam couldn’t open her eyes to look at her, could barely feel the ends of her hair protesting as Quetesh twisted tighter, and as Sam’s neck could barely support her own head. And when she couldn’t look up in defiance, all she could do was listen, and the words made it past the confusion in her mind. This was their fault. It was all their fault. Why couldn’t they have been more careful, more discreet? Why did they think luck was so much on their side that they could risk so much? Why did they think they could manage it all?

Jolinar was a small presence in her mind, curled in on herself before Sam even tried to shrink back into her. Her thoughts were tight and fast, and Sam couldn’t understand them. But her emotion was guilt, and it wracked Sam physically almost as much as the pain. They had failed.

And then, as the pain mellowed, her body fell back from the limits Quetesh had pushed it to. Then, just before any wait would have been a reprieve, Quetesh jabbed the stick into Sam’s collarbone, and they were gone again.

“Do you think you deserve this pain? All those who you claimed allegiance to, but you led me to them. Is this not yours to take for many centuries, one for each life I stole because of your deeds?”

Sam could barely remember what Quetesh’s words even meant, what error Jolinar had made that nearly led the Goa’uld straight to the Tok’ra. The operative she’d discovered had been tortured to insanity, villages in Quetesh’s path wiped off the face of their planets. Jolinar ached at the memory, and Sam could not handle it right now. She cried out for that aching pain.

And then Quetesh granted her more immediate pain, over and over, the cruel jabs eating away at their life until it was too dangerous. Jolinar helpless to heal, at Quetesh’s mercy whether to live or be tortured to death. But she backed off, letting the pain dissipate just enough, letting the heart and breathing recover adequately. All the while just standing and waiting for the moment to start again.

Another two cycles of this, and Sam barely noticed as Quetesh turned away from them. Weary of this game, and perhaps knowing it couldn’t go on forever, she passed out of the room. The cell door slammed shut, and the Jaffa took their place again.

Sam kept her mouth clamped shut, not wanting to whimper for their benefit. With tight, short movements, she tried to find a way to relieve any of the pressure on her aching body. Slipping a little, she lay down on her back on the cool floor. Her arms were suspended in the air, manacles barely starting to chafe.

Eyes shut, she found Jolinar, or rather saw her more clearly. She had always been there, feeling and holding tight. But with every fresh wave of pain, Sam had felt like she was slipping away with the rest of her mind.  
_  
*I am so sorry.* _The words were like gasps, even though just thoughts.

Sam felt everything, and a lump in her throat rose unbidden.  
_  
*I did not want you hurt.*_

~I could take it,~ Sam admitted, struggling with the thought. _~I thought she might break you.~_

*No, not even—no.* These words were steady, fiercely honest. Sam felt all of Jolinar reaching for her, enveloping her in a being only slightly less in pain. _*But the more I tried to protect it from you, the more I could not ease the control you bore. I am sorry. I was lost.*_

~I don’t think it mattered,~ Sam admitted wearily. The cool metal of the floor was starting to lose its charm already, the chill wearing away and taking its place was the chafing against the burning still in every limb. There was no relief.  
_  
*Do you want to be protected?_*

Jolinar felt Sam drifting out of focus, and Sam welcomed it, but she tried to answer the question. _~I don’t even know what that means anymore.~  
_  
And because she truly didn’t, Jolinar knew what to do. _*You cannot fade without hope, Samantha. Your mind will not allow your body to heal if there is no hope. I cannot help this now, only you can. You must stay yourself.*  
_  
Jolinar pushed her feelings on her, tried to make them clear. Sam thought she could grasp onto something. _~Were you protecting your past from me?~_

*Protecting you from my past,* Jolinar corrected. _*I did not want you to bear it. But I do not know if facing the real pain alone was right.*_

~Jolinar, I need to rest,~ Sam said, knowing that Jolinar knew. _~But I want to hear. I need to hear. I can’t face this in the dark.~_

*I know,* Jolinar said. _*I will not make you.*  
_  
A tear leaked from Sam’s eye, and she shut them tighter, felt the sting. In all of this, she had not felt such reassurance, such words she somehow knew and felt to be true. But she needed any kind of healing rest allowed, and so she let the world turn black around her as she faded into unconsciousness.

ooooooo

She woke to a jerking on her arms, as a Jaffa pulled her upright by her chains, locking them higher on the wall. Sam had just enough strength to keep from hanging.

“Leave,” Quetesh ordered the Jaffa, and in a few seconds they were alone together in the locked cell. Quetesh looked the same, only with her long hair drawn back out of her face so that it wouldn’t get in her way. She leaned close, running her long nails along the welt across Sam’s collarbone that the torture stick had left. “Such a waste for this body,” she murmured, eyes flashing.

 “Go to hell,” whispered Sam sharply, pulling herself upright with all she had.

“Perhaps I will send you there first,” said Quetesh, raking a sharp fingernail up Sam’s neck and watching trickle of blood follow. “But oh, Jolinar, I should have known that you would hide behind this pale shadow of a host.” She flicked out a small knife.

Jolinar burned from the back of their mind, Sam feeling her utter outrage. She had no strength, but she wanted it so strongly to bite back.

“Do you tell yourself that you hide to protect yourself from breaking and giving me what I want?” Quetesh asked, dragging the tip of her small blade along Sam’s arm as she hung there.

Jolinar wasn’t shrinking away. She was itching with anger, defensiveness. With all that in her mind, she and Sam barely felt when Quetesh flicked the point of the blade along their forearm. The shallow cut burned from some kind of substance on the blade, but it didn’t burn stronger than their anger. Anger at being helpless like this, but more anger at Quetesh for existing.

“Oh, but I know your true mind,” Quetesh said, her grin wide and malicious. “These bodies are so replaceable. You think if you retreat, I will have to break this one to get to you.” Her free hand pushed Sam’s body against the wall, lingering on her hip for a second. “But this is such a good host. No, I will not kill her. It would be easier for you, to escape this body and all the scars that will come with it. But no, I will not let you abandon her.”

Sam felt a growl escape her throat, and then Jolinar was in control. Her eyes flashed, and even bound by chains she moved towards Quetesh, longing to be released so she could break her neck.

“Jolinar,” Quetesh acknowledged, a vague humor on her face.

“As always,” Jolinar hissed to her, eyes glaring through her.

“Don’t act so fierce,” Quetesh rebuked, moving closer to Jolinar, pushing her back until the wall prevented a further retreat. Her hand still held the knife to Jolinar’s arm, the tip pressing against the skin with light pressure. “It would not be an invalid assumption. How many times before have you left a host just when it grows...difficult?”

Jolinar gritted her teeth, but didn’t answer. Quetesh had done nothing yet, but a jab of pain shot through Jolinar’s mind. She had never regretted her choices in that matter, but now as Quetesh dared think her a coward and detached from her host—she had no evidence but her own thoughts to defend her. Maybe her thoughts were delusional.

Quetesh went back to physical pain, slicing another mark in Jolinar’s arm and letting the blood drip slowly to the cell floor.

Jolinar couldn’t consider herself emotionally uncompromised. Sam didn’t believe any of it, and Jolinar didn’t ask her to—but it lurked at the back of their minds, the emotional distress sending waves of nausea through their body again.

Quetesh didn’t look at them again, slowly carving small scratches along Jolinar’s arms, drawing closer to her neck. They burned as if with poison, but that was no promise of  relief.  
_  
*She won’t kill us, even if she used the sarcophagus,*_ Jolinar said, forcing her mind away from this pain before Quetesh decided to make it overwhelming. _*She doesn’t want my kalmach to become cold and hard.*  
_  
Sam knew what was behind those words, the acknowledgment that the more tender the emotion, the more Quetesh could twist it to hurt.

“I remove the option of abandonment from you,” Quetesh said, voice smooth and low, gazing over her handiwork. “And I give you what you hate to desire. Penance for the lives lost, feeling their pain for as long as possible.”  
_  
*I do not need—I do not have so much self hate.*_ Thoughts coming brokenly, the physical burning intensifying. Neither could read just how much denial might be in those words.

Jolinar’s eyes were still opened, even as her jaw clenched to deal with the pain.

 Quetesh drew within a few inches of her face. There was no gold of emotion in those wide grey eyes, only sharp determination. She whispered, “And you want it to break you.”

She stepped back, and then snapped her hand in a small arc, cutting a stripe down Jolinar’s cheek and neck. “I am sometimes generous,” Quetesh said, nodding to the Jaffa to come back in.

Jolinar choked back a cry, and as the Jaffa lowered her chains to their original length, she fell to her knees and clasped a shaky hand to the blood spilling from this deeper cut, pressing the now-stained fabric of her tunic against it.

“Do not worry, Jolinar,” Quetesh said, as the Jaffa locked the door between her and Jolinar. Jolinar barely had the strength to keep her hands putting pressure on the wound; her eyes stayed lowered, but her ears caught Quetesh’s last words. “I will give you what you want.”

And she was gone again. Quetesh’s drug had damaged Jolinar’s ability to keep control of her limbs, and she wavered before Sam took it back, applying the right pressure. It was the only thing either of them could do to stop the bleeding, and Jolinar hated it.  
_  
~She’s right, isn’t she?~_ Sam asked._ ~You hate yourself.~_

*I hate what I’ve done. There is a difference.*

~Is there? Jolinar, it’s not just what happened with Quetesh. There’s something else, something you were protecting me from. I need to know now.~  
  
Jolinar neither said nor felt anything for a moment. Sam felt the affects of so many fresh wounds laced with some aggravating chemical, and the pain and physical shock started to overwhelm her mind. Light-headed, she leaned against the wall again, her back thankfully unmarked.  
_  
*Before I entered the court of Apophis, I failed in my role in the court of Sokar.*_ At first only words came, Jolinar’s emotions lacking. _*He is lord of an inescapable prison of neverending torment, the moon of Netu. He only considered me a faulty servant, and did not discover that I was a Tok’ra spy, so he did not interrogate me. Only sentenced me to eternal punishment at the hands of his more faithful servant. Bynarr.*  
_  
Jolinar did not want to bring up this memory, not after she’d hidden it for all this time. And as Sam started to feel the never-expressed emotions rising, she could only brace herself. But it wouldn’t be enough, she realized as Jolinar couldn’t pull only the facts forth. The memory itself was coming to life in their mind.

Jolinar’s thoughts stopped, as the memory overcame them both. Sam tried to shut her eyes mentally, blocking the visions so that she might feel the least impact. But soon she felt the heat of Netu, the cold grip of Bynarr’s hand on Jolinar’s thigh, the violating closeness of his body, the heavy breathing in her ear and on her neck. She felt Jolinar tremble, and it didn’t matter that it was Rosha’s body, because it might as well be Sam’s that felt compromised.

That cell on Netu swirled in full color in their mind, and a mutual shiver ran through them as Jolinar stepped from the bed in the memory, pulling the thin white dress up over her shoulder again. A hand wiped on the dress, but only symbolically—there was too much to just wipe away.

And then Jolinar escaped. Her physical injuries masked everything else when the Tok’ra found her, and she tried to keep it that way. Martouf and Lantash didn’t know, and Jolinar never wanted them to. Like with Sam, she hadn’t wanted them to live with that pain. But more, she still wasn’t sure it was worth it. All logic told her it was, that it was more important to escape and live, and the tactics she used were nothing but cold strategy—they didn’t mean anything. Emotion told her otherwise, and emotion shaped the lingering self-doubt and distress that she buried beneath everything else.

Sam thought she’d be the one going, “Oh, it’s not so bad.” And she could feel that Jolinar had counted on it, just assumed that Sam would give it an optimistic and not-quite-understanding treatment. Sam didn’t say anything, though, and couldn’t feel anything but the pain Jolinar had reluctantly given her.

It didn’t make things better. Neither of them could have truly expected that. But they were now on the same page. In the throes of pain, every position uncomfortable and the manacles still chafing, somehow it was easier to be just one whirlpool of—everything. Not better, but easier.  
_  
~I don’t want to die,~ _Sam whispered, clamping her eyes shut as another pulse of pain shot through her whole body.

Not optimistic, but Jolinar had never been so close. Exhausted sleep found them, one mind reeling in the dark of a Goa’uld cell, glad for the respite.

ooooooo

By the time Quetesh started asking the serious questions, they hardly understood them.  Dehydrated, pain-worn, and hungry, that would have been distraction enough. But she brought in the torture stick again, and they could only embrace the agonizing oblivion of its beam because they couldn’t think of how to find strength to fight it.

Quetesh didn’t expect them to answer the questions. She didn’t wait for answers before wracking their ever-more-fragile body. Jolinar wasn’t sure she even knew them, but it wasn’t what mattered. Over and over, the words were the only thing they could hear above the ringing and roar of the torture stick, blinding all their senses. They were meant to absorb the questions; the questions were meant to fill the pain-induced emptiness in their mind.

Jolinar knew all this, and yet could not stop the questions from repeating. Where is the Tok’ra home-world? How many operatives are among the Goa’uld? Which System Lords do you have targeted? They crowded the half-dreaming sleep Quetesh left her in for a few hours.

She pushed too hard, though, and Sam and Jolinar lost consciousness. They didn’t know for how long, only that when they came to they dared not open their eyes. They could hear Quetesh right there, waiting, and they couldn’t bear to give her a sign.  
_  
~Dorieth must be safe, or she’d use it against us,~_ Sam said.  
_  
*And Martouf and Lantash. She has kept us under the radar, in case she doesn’t get anything. She doesn’t want anyone to know.*_

~It’ll make it easier for them, not having any choice to make.~

*It is easier for us.*  
  
Alone, without hope of rescue. Sam never thought she’d be glad of it. But knowing Quetesh, any attempt would have been fraught with danger, and it was better to have no conflicting loyalties for Quetesh to threaten with. No lives to hang over their head but their own. And no way for them to feel alone with each other near, even as the distinction started to blur, becoming identity instead of companionship.

Their deception only lasted a few seconds.

“Perhaps you are weary of this?” Quetesh said, falling to one knee by them in a mock-sympathetic stance. “And yet you know it will not end, do you not?”

She had her spiked coat on again, and used the end of the sleeve that reached down to the back of her hand, pushing the spike under Jolinar’s chin to force her to use her strength to lift her head.

“But you also know that it is of no matter to me,” Quetesh said again, smiling crookedly. “I have seen you break under pressure, become something else. Something weaker. I shall do it again, eventually. You cannot go against your nature; soon you will break, and your weaker mind will not care what information it gives.”

Jolinar gritted her teeth. “I gained strength by joining the Tok’ra,” she whispered, voice too cracked for anything else.

“Is that so,” Quetesh said, enunciating each word correctly, and then throwing a cold laugh back. “Admit it, Jolinar—it takes less strength to give in to a host. Pitiful things that they are. Is yours even there? Or do I have your mind to myself?”

Sam was sick of this attempt at manipulation, and she didn’t have time to think. She acted, pushing herself past Jolinar’s consciousness, grabbing control. She jerked her head back off the spike Quetesh was holding against her throat, using what leverage she had in her chains to slam it down on the cell floor before Quetesh could react.

“It is you who look weak now,” she forced out, looking straight into Quetesh’s eyes. The Goa’uld was stunned for a moment, her hand still pinned against the floor. “Your mind is shallow, and so you make up for it with strength, but you forget that you know nothing. You should be afraid, Quetesh—there are not two minds to break separately, but something bigger than even the strongest mind on its own. I’m not going down until Jolinar does—and she’s not either. We’re bound together, and you’ll have to break that.”

Sam lost it, her arm collapsing and her body sinking again. “That is the strength of the Tok’ra,” she murmured, as the world spun from the exertion. Jolinar was still there, surprised at the sudden control, but feeling as if words had finally said what she could not express through emotions. And that was greater strength than physical.

Quetesh made no sound despite Sam’s hopes. She wanted the words to sting, to provoke a reaction. Jolinar knew better.

They felt Quetesh’s hand grip their throat, and then slam them back against the wall. They saw stars, and then couldn’t catch their breath, Quetesh’s grip closing off their air.

“The only undefeatable strength is in power, ultimate power,” Quetesh said, her voice low but dripping with bitter disdain. Sam barely kept her eyes open as she tried to gasp for breath. “And the Tok’ra are powerless,” Quetesh finished, joyous hatred in her eyes.

With her other hand she reached for something, and Sam didn’t have time to see before Quetesh thrust the knife up under her ribs.

Sam gurgled, choking on the jabbing sensation in her abdomen, the invasive feeling of the knife almost worse than the pain. Quetesh let go of her throat, ripping the knife free with a terrible sound. But as Sam doubled over, gasping in breaths that were now painful, the Goa’uld’s hand trailed to Sam’s. She scooped the hand that had pinned hers, long nails gently raking over the shaking fingers.

Sam heard the snap of bone before she felt it, as Quetesh broke her little finger. But she couldn’t scream.

“Powerless,” Quetesh said again. Another crack, another finger on the offending hand broken. “Powerless.”

Jolinar pushed out with her mind, trying to shield Sam if at all possible, cursing Quetesh’s drug for her failure.

“Powerless,” Quetesh whispered in her ear, and broke the third finger.

Sam fell forward, darkness enveloping her.

ooooooo

“You know,” said Lewis, the flames of the campfire getting rid of only the physical shadows on his face. His voice was empty.

Daniel looked up, sitting on the ground with Sha’re leaned back in his arms, warmth and closeness taking the place of words.

“You know,” repeated Lewis, poking a stick into the fire. “Someday we’re going to have to accept that Earth is destroyed, and we’re just lost in a hostile galaxy.”

Daniel swallowed. “No,” he said, almost low enough to be a whisper. “Not yet.”


	29. Crossroads

_Warning - scenes of graphic torture_

Jolinar woke before Sam, and if Sam could be glad about anything it would be that, the chance to avoid feeling those first feelings. Physically, they were almost on their last mile, but the defiance that had cost them a dangerous wound had left their minds almost untouched—two sides of the same coin, Sam would have thought. Quetesh might strike out at their body, but she hadn’t found a way to touch that.

But it was only in the dreariness of half-sleep that Sam’s mind whirled, before consciousness flooded her with too many sensations. A Jaffa had half-bandaged them while they lay unconscious, stopping the bleeding from the stab wound in their side. He had not cleaned it, though, and a fever was starting to rage through them. Sweat dripped down, stinging in their still-unhealed wounds. Her left hand throbbed, swollen where the three broken fingers were starting to set unevenly.  
_  
*I cannot heal,*_ Jolinar said, her voice thin and almost forlorn. Not helpless, not yet.

But when every inch of their body ached, it didn’t really seem to matter. The pain was too much, and Jolinar vomited up what little bile was in her empty stomach. Their throat burned, and the retching twisted at the new wound in their abdomen. Jolinar barely had the mind to worry about internal damage, if that even mattered, if they even survived long enough to die from that.

The Jaffa had also left a small cup of water, only the second in the five days trapped in this cycle of torture. Cruelly, it lay just out of reach of their good hand. Jolinar tensed her jaw tightly, trying to reach for it with only the thumb and forefinger of her damaged left hand. But it didn’t work, and she hissed through her teeth as she tried to bring the cup to her without nudging the swollen fingers. The cup spilled a little, a few precious droplets lost to the floor, but they managed to soothe the burn of bile in their throat and dampen their cracked lips.

A tear squeezed from one eye as Jolinar’s broken hand released the empty cup. Her breaths came in harsh and gasping, but they were sobs of pain and near-despair.  
_  
*I am sorry, I am sorry,*_ her thoughts flailed, not knowing why she said it, only that it was something she might not have done enough.

The sobs wracked their body almost as much as anything else. Sam tried to apologize back, because somewhere she knew that her impetuousness and naivete had gotten them here, maybe more than whatever Jolinar considered her fault.

But the tears washed the guilt into one, and truly they couldn’t see where one idea ended and another began. It had all been too entwined to differentiate blame.

While it was still quiet, while they were still at rest, Jolinar let control loose. Sam felt their consciousnesses blanketing each other, clinging for what support they could still offer. Jolinar felt that it would probably be over soon, at least for a while.

Sam felt her eyes flick open for a second, and her bleary vision cleared for a second as she saw only the floor. There, by the cup. Her eyes closed again, but she tried to open them. Tried to focus.

In the fever of their mind, Jolinar thought Sam was imagining something. Sam couldn’t reach to the floor with her hands, still bound. Her legs were still almost untouched, like her back—it had given them little comfort before, but now she struggled to untangle her leg. With her bare foot, she reached for what she seemed to see.

And her foot found it. Jolinar named it first. _*The spike.*_

~When I pushed her hand to the floor...~ Sam managed to grip the small black object with her toes, bringing it closer so that she could grab it with her hand.

Almost three inches of black metal, and now it was theirs.

They heard footsteps approaching, and Sam quickly twisted her arm, even as more pain shot up it. She pierced the spike into the back of their tunic, and then waited for Quetesh’s return.  
_  
*Is it any hope?* _Jolinar wondered.

Sam didn’t have time for an answer.

ooooooo

“I’m not ready yet,” Daniel said, even as the words were almost denial. SG-6 was about ready to permanently withdraw to the Alpha Site, as the base prepared to possibly accept news of apocalypse on Earth.

Sha’re sat before him, their legs crossed, Shifu in between them again. The Abydonian ceremony of bringing peace to a child seemed more fitting now than ever, and they hoped it would bring them peace as well.

“You know, I’d been ready before,” Daniel said. He brushed his fingers over Sha’re’s hand. “When they almost closed the Stargate Program down, I planned to escape through the gate.”

“But you did not know where I was,” said Sha’re, interested.

“I would have found you,” Daniel said, looking her in the eye. “I would have fought Apophis all on my own, and I would have saved you somehow. I was ready to leave Earth behind forever and devote my life to you.”

Sha’re’s brow creased, the impact of his words touching her, giving her reason to think.

“Now I may have to do that, and it’s not so easy,” he said quietly. SG-1 had always been important to him, almost the only thing he cared about on his planet. But he’d spread his wings since then, drawing others close, too close to abandon.

“You will be welcome on New Abydos, Dan’yel,” Sha’re said, caressing his hand back. “And we may rebuild our society.”

“I know,” said Daniel. “And I can probably make it my home again, eventually.”

“But I know it is not the same,” Sha’re said, nodding.

Shifu burbled, and they both glanced down, faces softening.

Daniel hoped he wasn’t being too selfish, asking for more than freedom and a family. A stray thought darted to the front of his mind. “Sha’re, do you have a way to contact Sam?” Part of him thought the answer might bring him pain, but it needed to be addressed again.

Sha’re shook her head. “It could not be risked. Even though it was likely you would not demand such information, if I was ever captured it could be forced from me.”

Daniel nodded, grimly. “Do you miss her?” he asked, looking closely at his wife.

She nodded sadly. “More than I thought.”

Daniel gripped her hand, heart twisting in a knot again. “That’s good. Because sometimes, I’m afraid I don’t miss her enough.” Sometimes he forgot that she’d been on his team.

Sha’re had nothing to say, but just held his hand, and they continue the ritual for some time more.

ooooooo

Sam and Jolinar’s fever got worse, and judging from Quetesh’s emotionless gaze, she seemed to think it punishment enough for the day. They couldn’t have taken any more in any case.

She took her stand in the cell, her voice even and low as she just went through a list of questions. This time she paused after each one, just long enough for Sam and Jolinar to have a split second to bite down hard and refuse to answer.  
_  
~Maybe we will go mad,~_ Sam thought, as the fever ravaged her focus, the neverending questions a maddening sound. Jolinar wanted to reach out and strike it away, do anything to make it stop.

Quetesh had infinite patience. Every question, about every little Tok’ra aspect that the Goa’uld concerned themselves with. Sam hadn’t known all of this before, but she didn’t care now. All she cared about was to have something other than the questions in her head tempting her.  
_  
*She may leave, let us recover enough for more torture,* _Jolinar said.

And even the Goa’uld eventually saw that there was no point. Nearly passed out against the cell wall, Sam’s dry eyes lay wearily shut, her slow shallow breaths passing through chapped and broken lips. Quetesh sighed, and finally left.

Not knowing how much there would be, Sam grasped onto this bit of silence for a few seconds, soaking in its comforting presence.  
_  
*What did you find?*_ Jolinar asked, with effort throwing their mind back a few hours.  
_  
~A lock pick, essentially,~_ Sam answered, finding just enough strength to focus. Their minds ached with the physical throbbing, but it had not overcome them yet.  
_  
*You can free these chains?*_

Sam reached for the spike she’d hidden in the back of their tunic, opening her eyes to make sure that no one was watching. The Jaffa were still positioned some way down the hall, and the hard floors would alert any other approaching presence. Sam kept her broken hand resting in her lap, as comfortable as she could get it. Even thinking about it made it hurt more.

She brought her other hand over, using her good hand to pick at the other manacle’s lock. Her eyes had a hard time focusing, and her hand occasionally jerked out of her control. But the rest and the silence already felt like healing, and the more she worked the easier she felt it get.

It felt like an hour before anything clicked in the lock. The manacle opened, and Sam breathed in shortly.  
_  
*Not now,*_ Jolinar said quickly, and Sam felt the warning too.

She clicked the lock back closed, and breathed out. What was the point of using their one, only, escape chance without a plan. How would they get out of the cell itself? How would they get to the rings, to the gate?

But Jolinar didn’t squash the hope, and together they cradled it between them, wanting it to grow but not knowing how.  
_  
~What do we do?~_ asked Sam. Her thoughts still felt a little slurred. _~This cell is locked manually, which is strange, right?~_

*It can’t hurt to try to open it,* Jolinar said._ *Not if we can get out.*_

~Jolinar, I may really lose it if we get caught again.~

*I know. We have to wait.*  
  
Sam closed her eyes. She hadn’t seen the lock, and she wasn’t an expert. But she’d heard it lock several times now, and could almost see it from inside the cell. It wasn’t the best information, but it was something.

They’d survived almost a week of this interrogation; waiting up to a few more days for a real chance at escape was the only logical choice.

Quetesh came back, possibly hours later—they didn’t know, being sound asleep. Again, she seemed to judge them too weak for any real enjoyment, so she stuck to the practical. Questions again, and Jolinar almost started giving answers. Some outrageous, some teasingly close to accurate, they popped into her mind during the interrogation. But she wouldn’t even give Quetesh that much. She clenched their jaw and remained silent.

That night almost seemed a relief, if it was a night after all.

When Quetesh came the next day, they were awake, and Jolinar tried to focus on the exact sounds and sights of the lock as she entered. Whatever information she got was stuffed down swiftly, because she’d missed the device on Quetesh’s hand.

Not a hand device. Sam had never seen it, but she knew automatically—hara’kash.  
_  
~Jolinar?~_ Sam said, suddenly worried more than ever before.  
_  
*Samantha...do not worry, it is only for me.*_

~Don’t be an idiot, Jolinar,~ Sam snapped, heart racing. _~Even if I can’t feel it, what hurts you—could kill you—~_ She broke off, worry and weakness stealing her words.

Quetesh had aimed for Sam’s body earlier, weakening the host to damage Jolinar’s mind. It hadn’t gone far enough, and now she brought the easiest path to breaking Jolinar herself. Sam didn’t need to have Jolinar lay it out in detail to know exactly what kind of injury the symbiote herself would undergo. With her healing impaired, not even Quetesh could know exactly how much worse than usual it would be.

“Are you not worn with this?” Quetesh asked, and they wondered for a moment if she was instead. “Would you not rather die now than days or weeks hence?”

Weeks. If they thought too hard on the implications there, they might truly break under this torment.

Sam held her body locked in place, brittle strength all that was holding her. It was all she could do to keep a safe place for Jolinar.

Quetesh sighed, and without any glare or pause, lifted her hand. The ring-like hara’kash on her hand lit, and then shot back straight through Sam’s head. It hurt more than Sam had been prepared for, but then Jolinar screamed in her mind and she forgot herself. The hand device had seemed to bore through their skull, sending waves of the painful energy all through their body. The hara’kash needed no time. It was like a spike, aimed straight for Jolinar herself, and not taking anything in its path into account. Sam felt like her head had been impaled on a long needle.

Since Jolinar could barely affect it, Sam knew that the fast patter of her heart was hers alone. Jolinar was writhing, screaming, overwhelming her head with the intense pain—and Sam’s heart was breaking for her. She couldn’t say a word, knowing Quetesh could not have planned this, but would have if she knew.

The beam stopped, and Jolinar’s inner scream halted abruptly with it.  
_  
~I’m here,~_ Sam said, vainly reaching out with her mind, hoping it might be some comfort.

Jolinar shivered, emotionless.  
_  
~Don’t break on me,~ _Sam warned, choking up. _~Not after all this, you can’t leave me. Jolinar, you can—~ _She didn’t know what. That was worse, she didn’t know what Jolinar could do.

“So simple,” came Quetesh’s words through to Sam’s head.

Again she was impaled, again Jolinar had nowhere to go, again she screamed, and Sam felt like she could barely hold back tears.

But then it stopped. As Jolinar withered with the freedom from pain, Sam breathed out and almost opened her eyes. Through the crusted lashes and fever-bleariness she saw Quetesh’s feet. Sam didn’t look up.

“Too soon,” she heard Quetesh mutter. And then the feet vanished as Quetesh turned to leave. Jolinar might have lost even more strength in her relief, but Sam didn’t stop to question Quetesh’s actions.  
_  
~Jolinar?~_ she asked, desperate. Now her tender eyes were starting to sting with tears, now she could barely keep the lump down in her throat. _~You’re alive, right?~  
_  
Jolinar couldn’t answer, but Sam felt her consciousness, small and empty. And Sam just melted around it, wrapping it, bringing it to her as a part of herself. She didn’t know what Quetesh had done or what it meant, only that it had left strength that Sam needed to share. That Jolinar needed to receive.

The symbiote hadn’t closed herself off, at least. She let Sam in, even though she gave no response. The minutes passed, and Sam’s heart still thumped rapidly in her chest with all the worry. Her head was throbbing to the same beat, though she had almost pushed aside the rest of her pain. It was bodily, it was recoverable. Sam feared for Jolinar’s mind.  
_  
*I will not die,*_ Jolinar finally said.

A wash of relief swept over Sam for a second.   
_  
~You know what, this is pointless,~_ Sam said, her mind racing frustratedly.

Hints of emotion were coming back to Jolinar, worry and fear and a strange comfort. _*What?*_

~She almost killed you, no?~ Sam asked.

Jolinar didn’t need to speak her answer, so she said something else._ *I would have died, but with my last act I would have spared you. My death—it would only urge the Tok’ra on.*_

~Stop that,~ Sam demanded, trying to find stubbornness in her mixture of relief and fear. _~I don’t even know what that kind of survival would be like. That’s not—I won’t accept it.~_

Jolinar had barely a response, just the slightest bit of herself that reached to find Sam, become harmonized with her again.  
_  
~I’m not going out on those terms,~_ Sam said. _~If we die, we’ll do it together, and we’ll take our insane chance.~_

*There is no chance,* Jolinar protested, as Sam moved her quivering hands. _*You will not be able to move.*_

~To hell with that,~ Sam spat. The rage didn’t feel good, it felt too strong for all they’d been through. But she wanted it anyway.

She pulled the spike from her tunic again, bringing it to the manacle. Quietly, one ear on the guards that might escort Quetesh back any second, she started breaking through again. Her breathing was almost coming in sobs, each one wracking her body with pain both physical and emotional. They were losing it so fast.

Her hand slipped and the spike missed the manacle and hit the hand, right on a swollen broken joint. That little pain somehow hurt more intensely than anything should, after all they’d been through. Tears sprang to Sam’s eyes, and she squeezed them shut, waiting for the end so she could continue. She didn’t have the strength to curse.

The minutes passed, and Sam tried to find the magic combination of angles to get through this lock. It wasn’t much easier the second time, except that she knew she could do it. Eventually. She didn’t know if she had the time.

Jolinar was quiet, still worn. But she could remember, and she did, and Sam needed the help to recall another cell door in another place. A much kinder prison, the SGC. _*Not for me,*_ Jolinar added. But Sam had been much more healed when she’d broken out of that, and she’d had much more at her disposal. And she’d had an escape.

But even Jolinar didn’t urge her to slow down and think of a plan. Get out or die—that was good enough.

Finally Sam broke through the manacle, and she was paying attention this time. Grimacing, tears threatening again, she took the spike in the thumb and forefinger of her left hand—the only whole part of that hand. Trying to breathe steadily, she remembered the last sequences of turns in the lock, and carefully, got it done.

When the manacle broke free, her hand jerked a little. She was going to retch or pass out or both, and god, how was she going to even move? She lowered her head, trying to breath in deeply, but feeling the pull of the stab wound at every muscle in her abdomen, ripping and tearing.  
_  
*You will not pass out,*_ Jolinar said, like a mantra in her head._ *We will not lose now. Samantha, we are free.*  
_  
A short spasm went through Sam, but she lifted her head. Her hands, one broken, one with a stab wound festering—they weren’t bound by chains any more. Her only weapon was a piece of metal barely three inches long, but they were free._ ~Jolinar, we can do this.~_

*We can.*  
  
All they needed to do was take it step by step, never bothering to think about the miracle of odds they’d need to complete all the steps. Now, it was about standing up.   
_  
*I’m here,*_ Jolinar said._ *You’re not alone.*_

~I know that,~ Sam said, but her emotions said the gratitude much better. Jolinar was coming back, and there was no way either of them would let anyone try to rip her away again. She wished Jolinar was recovered enough to take control, because she really didn’t know what she could do next.

Squeezing her eyes shut, and ignoring the tear that slipped out and stung its way down the gash on the side of her head, she pushed her elbows back against the wall. That didn’t hurt, and neither did positioning her feet to stand up. But when she pushed herself to almost standing, it was good that her jaw was clenched, because it felt like she had been stabbed in the gut again. She doubled over in her new standing position, right hand automatically clutching the wound. It was starting to bleed again, and she was dizzy and faint already; she stumbled against the wall, leaning but not sitting.

She didn’t want to say “I can’t”, but her determination slipped for a second. And yet, there was Jolinar, Sam’s overexertion putting some strength back into her mind, and it felt good for them both.

The sudden rush of dizziness faded, and Sam opened her eyes. It was a few steps to the door, and there she would have to break through another lock, but this time without the Jaffa hearing or noticing. _~Shit.~  
_  
Jolinar almost smiled, and Sam remembered dark humor for the first time in a long time.

Her bare feet were weak but painless as she took her first step, eyes on the bars and the wall of the ship beyond. One hand to her stomach, the other still gingerly holding the spike in her two unbroken fingers. Another two steps, and then she felt the dizziness again. There was no way her hands could protect her face if she fell, and then she would hit her head and it would all be over. Gasping, taking the only option, she took one last long step and fell against the bars of the door.

The pain of a dozen burns and cuts flared to life, but it was the sound that doomed her. The dull clang as she hit the door, head reeling but hearing just fine. And the Jaffa heard, and she heard one set of boots approaching.

“Kree!” he shouted, right in Sam and Jolinar’s ear.

They heard the other Jaffa come closer, and Sam prepared to use her only option, stab the Jaffa through the bars. It would sign a death penalty for her and Jolinar, but she had no other choice except wait for them to come in and chain her back up. But the Jaffa was right near her looking confused, and she looked down in the split second before he was about to say something and saw his zat. She inhaled sharply, regretting it, but with all the strength she had her arm shot out through the bars.

The Jaffa almost said something, but he’d underestimated Sam and Jolinar’s strength and stood too close. Sam snatched his zat, opening it before he could look down, and then she sent two blasts straight into his chest. No hesitation, and then the other Jaffa was down before he could call kree again.

No guards came running as the Jaffa hit the floor. And somehow Sam was feeling stronger, as if her body was readjusting to being upright again. _~Are you healing?~_ she asked.  
_  
*Adrenaline,* _Jolinar answered, with a weak ironic chuckle. Her despair at being unable to do what had always come naturally faded just enough to appreciate what Sam’s body was doing all on its own.

Sam would have laughed and cried at the situation, but she didn’t. Adrenaline might give them a fighting chance. Carefully, she bent, dropping the zat to grip a bar for support and ignored the fiery pain from the pressure the bar put on a wound. The Jaffa was close enough for her to take his keys, pulling them to her with two fingers of her left hand, and adrenaline helped her stand up again.

One click, and the cell door was free. Sam slid it carefully, hands and legs starting to shake. No, adrenaline couldn’t be all used up yet, it couldn’t. The silence in the hall outside was both hope and worry to her, not knowing where she would go next. She barely remembered the ring room’s location, but then what? First things first.

She picked up the zat again. Leaning against the wall, doubled over to ease what pain she could, each step she then took felt like the last before her body would give out. She barely kept her eyes open, dizziness rising and falling but never rising enough to drop her. She was not dead yet.  
_  
*Goa’uld ring combinations are often similar,*_ Jolinar offered, feeling her mind coming to life for what might be their last stretch.  
_  
~But do they usually have Stargates on their ships?~ _Sam asked.

No was the answer, but neither had the strength to say it. Sam watched the gold and grey pattern of the walls as she passed it, step by step, and how many was it by now? The corner was only a few steps away, and then there were only two more turns before the ring room was theirs.  
_  
~If only it’s empty,~ _Sam offered.  
_  
*If we can zat fast enough.*_

Time almost disappeared as they kept walking and gasping, and they had turned the corner, and then another, and adrenaline still had them high because they had survived. And they were willing with every bit of them to survive just a little longer, just for another step.

The air was fresher out here too, with no stench of blood and infection and filth from their cell. It was just another thing giving them strength, the freedom to breathe symbolizing the freedom to escape, if they could just make it.

Sam couldn’t believe it when they turned the last corner and could see the entrance to the ring room ahead. A few more steps, a few more.

But then the silence broke, and they heard steps ahead. Gritting her teeth, Sam tried to move faster, and Jolinar tried to judge how much faster they needed. They couldn’t stop, and Sam wasn’t sure she had the strength to lift the zat for more than a second, if that.

Too late, Jolinar realized that they wouldn’t make it, and Sam took in a deep sobbing breath before she prepared to fire again.

The steps brought a person into view. And there was Martouf and Lantash. She almost couldn’t see past the Goa’uld robes, but there they were. The ones they had kept safe from Quetesh’s suspicion, the ones who were never supposed to have to decide between the mission and the one they loved.

Sam’s sharp relief mingled fully with Jolinar’s, and it was overwhelming—she collapsed against the wall she was using as support.

Lantash stopped with a jolt, eyes full of shock. Sam could only imagine—a long gash down her face, arms and neck marked with burns and cuts, hands a mess, and her tunic almost completely matted with blood both from her stab wound and everything else combined. They were wavering on death’s door.

“Jolinar,” whispered Lantash, still frozen in shock. And neither Sam nor Jolinar had time to think before suddenly he was moving towards them, fear and concern on his face as he suddenly realized what was going on. “Samantha.”

“Yes,” Sam said aloud, her throat and mouth almost too dry. She closed her eyes for a second, taking advantage of the relief.

She felt his hand hover, almost touching their shoulder, but she knew just how it would look. Any touch might cause pain. “I did not know,” she heard him say, a choke in his voice. “Oh beloved, I did not know. I was sent to Dorieth only this day, but did not suspect—no, I cannot talk.” His hand found the wound in her side, and she grimaced, but he slipped his arm around her back and the other under her knees, and in one swift move they were cradled in his arms.

Sam breathed out, the sudden change sending another rush to her head, the relief abating the pumping of adrenaline. “You weren’t supposed to know,” she whispered, eyes still shut. A pang of Jolinar’s struggle between regret and relief was strong, even as everything weakened.

“No, do not say that,” she heard the protest in a breaking voice, and then felt a light kiss to her forehead.

“The mission,” she murmured, as the world started to fade. He was carrying them to the ring room.

“We are being sent to Dorieth, so our absence will not be noticed here, only there. And they will not notice.” To hear a familiar voice, even when so broken by shock and sudden grief, somehow made the impulsive and overconfident words sound right. They trusted him.

Sam and Jolinar could feel the adrenaline finally disappearing for good as the rings activated, as Martouf and Lantash carried them to Quetesh’s gate room. And they had truly pushed themselves too far.  
_  
*You were right,*_ Jolinar said, her mind edging willingly back to exhausted oblivion.  
_  
~We are safe,~_ Sam said. They had moved again, and then there was the fire of some weapons, and now the sound of chevrons lighting. She was so tired, in so much pain, but she knew as she heard the sound of the wormhole activating that she’d spoken the truth.

Safe in arms that they would trust to the end of the universe, Sam and Jolinar lost consciousness as they were carried through the gate.

**End of Book 2**


End file.
